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C.C. Hogan


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Who am I?
What is my identity?
We push and pull,
Try to fool
Label ourselves.
The pressure is there.
"Who are you?
What are you?"
What do you mean
What am I?
I am me!
We are told to
Be in a box
With big locks
And a packaging slip
That politely dips
Into our persona
Our sexual moaner
And declares the contents:
Slightly off centre.
Pan this.
Fluidly that.
Gay (and happy?
Who knows!
Who cares!)
As long as the
Matches expectation,
Everyone is happy.
Because as soon as
The moon has
We invent a new one,
A different one,
A way to come
To terms with
How seven billion
Can say
This is me!
This is my label,
My fable,
My story told,
From young to old.
And the pressure
Is still there.
Choose one!
You can only be one.
There can be only one!
So come
To terms with your label,
Celebrate your description
As a prescription
To Cure you of
Your identity confusion.
But I don't like the labels.
I am not a label.
I am not bi,
Or straight,
Or gay.
I am not pansexual,
I am just me!
I have the one label.
It is what I see
In the mirror
In the morning:
It is what I hold
Late at night
It is what I feed,
What I abuse,
What I suffer:
It is what I love,
What I hug,
What I pleasure:
It's what I was born
And will live
And will die:
It is truth,
It is clean,
It is simple:
It is all I need,
And all YOU need
To know about


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