Materialistic

 

The shade of my hair

(Which changes every six weeks)

And the style of my clothes

(From the black tees to the collared shirts)

Do not define me.

 

No, it is you who defines me,

You who places me in a box with everyone else

Who has non-natural colored hair

And wears whatever they like.

Then you call me things,

Label me,

Claim that is who I am,

That is my identity.

 

Yet if you looked within my mind

(Filled with dreams similar to your own)

You would be able to see

That objects do not define me.

Your words do not define me.

 

For I, I am completely

I                       D                                             N

            N                                             I            A

                                    E            F                      BLE.

 

Reviews

[blacksky45]

wow this is poem is really strong and i love the meaning of the poem. i agree that poeple label other poeple even if they judge them on the things they have. good poem and keep writing!