Don’t live for the approval of your identity
Live to prove you don’t have one
Your environment is designed to tailor you
Shirts of praises, pants of compliments
Ties of comments and shoes of advices…
Your job is to stay undressed
As your soul believes in no fashion
The biggest truth you need to know
Is the naked beauty of your heart
And it never searches acknowledgement
Nor cares about judgements

Identity is a slim fit jacket
So fit you cannot move
And it gets even slimmer
With an aim to choke you
To a moment it can exist

Your mind is a shitty designer and a bitchy critique
With an obsession to black
Never liking anything it creates
And bringing dark to a darker level
Eventually getting you into a big black hole

When dark comes to its darkest
A sun rises on your life
Burning identities like zombies
Blinding designers and muting critiques
Your soul is the only thing you wear
And it’s the universe surrounding your skin

Life is a fire on the beach
Identities are burning wood
And your soul is the oxygen

K.K.