I used to wear clothes based on branding and price

My innermost being was my sacrifice

In exchange for acceptance, approval, and nods

I gave up enjoyment and became a fraud

I feared what was said when I wore clothes with quirk

I put on the same things, so I’d never be hurt

But one day while shopping my friend bought some shoes

He bought them for me so I couldn’t refuse

He knew that this footwear would be building blocks

To help with my ego, my friend bought me Crocs

 

I am my Crocs

And my Crocs are me

They are the roots

And I am the tree

 

What began as a secret

A gift from a friend

Transformed into armor I used to defend

My value

My purpose

My weak self-esteem

Although, above all, Crocs defended my dream

To not be deduced to my gender or race

Or the clothes on my back

Or the look on my face

To be looked at as someone who is who they are

To be seen as the driver, not the paint on the car

 

I am my Crocs

And my Crocs are me

They are the roots

And I am the tree