You think you know all men?
You think all men are selfish bastards, who pick up women like the husks of empty passion,
And discard them the moment they are full of the shallow culture “all men” flaunt.
I’ll tell you the truth,
The truth is, you categorize to simplify,
Men are people first; we wade in shallow feelings when they reflect the reaction to your eyes,
If the man you seek discards you, maybe you should reflect upon them too.
Yes, we come from an unscrupulous past, Machiavellian was right,
But this does not mean he is right, or that our change will lead to a dishonest future.
But who am I to judge the feelings of the complexity of love,
What bases of experience can you say I have to preach upon a choir when I am agnostic to the pander that you play,
The genuflection of regeneration without regard to the lives we want to lead,
The higher power I seek is not simply the multiplication of like terms,
It is for the sum to be greater than the collective additions of that which came before,
For our combined abilities to complement, not contradict,
I’m not gay,
I’m not straight,
I’m not bi,
The only line I see is the one looking at you,
I love people, not women, not men,
And my hormones, my genes, my race, my body, my sex do not make me, me,
I make me, me,
So let’s cut this crap about gender,
About fitting people in,
About leaving people out,
There is an inherent uncertainty that exists between us all,
The need to stare, third eye to third eye, instead of looking the other way,
Gleam meaning beyond the face you’ve seen before,
It’s hard, I know from experience,
Just as hard as it is for one to see themselves as what they are to others,
And the fear that they are nothing to someone else,
Eats at you until the insincerity is too much,
And you give in to the shallow feeling because the eyes can be deceiving,
And the truth is never cut and dry.
The truth, honestly, is just another simplification.