Its like putting a stamp on your face
you're defined by what you do,
who you are,
your gender
the color of your skin
heritage
eye color
the clothes you wear,
hell, you're defined by the clothes you dont wear

its this broken society that we live in, like some sick combination between vanity and pride that fills our heads with things we dont need, and hiding whats really important to us.
Can we really be proud of being.. whatever the hell you want to call it, whether it be american, white, mexican, brown, black, purple, orange, we will never be whole unless we respect the decisions made by our peers. which isnt anywhere close to where we are now..

--
this was totally random. the first part was suppose to be some sort of poem but i stopped and moved it here.

the morale of this poem was something like
you are defined by who you are, so then how can they change if you dont change for them..


or something like that..