People often ask me why I bother to dye my hair.
Because apparently ‘It would look so much better natural’.
People usually tell me that I speak too loud
And I need to quieten down and stop embarrassing them and their friends.
I am required to apologize for my personality and flaws.
I get told that I’m too weird for all to handle,
That my hair is too bright,
That I am too loud.
That there’s no need to shout-
But I’m never turning my volume down.
I will continue to shout and scream
For those in the back row,
Hoping for them to listen,
To even christen into my words.
To convert, to diverge, to create battle cry’s from dirges,
To bellow the verses which are needed to curse them.
So next time you hear ‘Why do you do it, Are you fucked in the head?’
Ask them ‘Well, why don’t you? Are you a sheep afraid of your reflection?’
Is it too hard to remember who lies among the Earth’s ember?
Are you too scared of being the alien or alienated from the crowd?
Do you keep attacking my coat because you’re too fearful of its power?
Of my strength, of my prism of personality and scarred skin
Slashed from your knives but now thicker and more resilient.
Don’t you dare try to tear apart the seams of my fabric
Just because you hate my texture.
I am the leather among the tonnes of wool,
I am the human in wolfs clothing.
The Fire, The Wind, The Saints, The Sinners.
The ascent, The fall, The hole in the wall
The spark that ignites,
The battle towards the fight.
The whistle of the wind,
Not the touch-
But the feel
Of shivers down a spine
Of sweaty palms at night.
I am the dream, upon awakening
Defined as a nightmare.
I am the past and the present,
I am the future in the crescent
That lies in the sky
With nothing to hide
Because blue hair and a loud voice will scream with pride.