Identity

Who really am I?

Will my true characteristics be inscribed on my tombstone when I die?

Do my friends know who I am?

What is this word identity?

Because it’s no friend to me,

Maybe I will find out who I am if I am promised wealth and longevity?

Am I identified by my looks?

Do I fall under the view of a stereotypical African American?

I think the word identity is foggy and I want to see it clear again.

Maybe my mind needs a new state,

And maybe I can start putting who I am on a clean slate.

I am lazy and when Kansas City scores a touchdown I go crazy.

I love when the sun goes down and then the world gets shady.

I love guitars and I love looking at all the stars

Making up my own constellations, and I love all people from all nations.

Maybe me doing this I am just scratching the surface of who I am,

But at least I am breaking the walls of my identity dam.