The I In Me They Never Bothered With

 They see my gender.

They see my color.

They see the clothes I wear.

But …

They want to know my ‘likes’.

They want to know my contacts.

They want to know my religion.

They want to know my income.

They want to know my sexual preference.

They want to know my political affiliation.

They want to know my citizenship.

They want to know my heritage.

They want to know my family and lineage.

They want to know my genetic code.

They want my body.

They want my soul.

They want my spirit.

They want my blood.

They want my conformity.

But …

They don’t want my mind.

And they never once even ask my name.

 

They ask me to take sides.

They ask me to read the literature.

They ask me to see the visuals.

They ask me not to interrupt them.

They ask me to follow.

They ask me to believe.

They ask me to give.

They ask me to be … what they want me to be.

But …

They do not ask me what I think.

And they never once even ask my name.

 

They question me on web-pages … never visited.

They question me on details … not given.

They question me on semantics … not spoken.

They question me on lovers … not slept with.

They question me on ‘isms’ … not considered.

But …

They don’t question me on my ‘ologies’.

And they never once even ask my name.

 

They see all, know all, want all and question all.

But …

They don’t really care to know me.

… and to be honest,

my name isn’t really that important at all. 

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