It must be so nice
To know exactly who you are
To be able to explain
I'm gay, I'm straight, I'm bisexual
Easier to explain who I am to my mother,
Who understands her gay son but not indifferent daughter
Easier to explain to myself,
In a world of titles and labels
Of this or that and that or this,
That there is somewhere I fit
It's hard to explain
That you don't know if you love
That you don't know this part of you,
That others deem essential
To being American, African, Chinese-
To being human
There is a part of me
Deep, deep down
That is afraid that I'll never know
Just who I am and who I will love
But there is a part deeper than that
That is just fine with the confusion
Because this is I am
Who I have always been
And most importantly,
Who I always will be
So what need is there for questions?
For thought out explanations?
What need is there to do anything
But wait for a change?
For a lightbulb in a dark basement?
For an egg to hatch...or not.