Not A Thing

You look at me like I’m below you
Just because I choose to be different
But I refuse to be another copy of you
So you might as well leave me alone

I’m not a thing
Which you can control
I have the right to be “me”
So get over it
I am my own

I walk into school
Not wearing the right clothes
To pass your inspection
But I don’t care, look somewhere else

I’m not a thing
Which you can control
I have the right to be “me”
So get over it
I am my own

I see that today
You picked a different girl
It’s her turn to be put down
And in the back of my head I think, “Will this ever end? ”

She’s not a thing
Which you should try to control
She has the right to be who she wants to be
So you should get over yourself
And be your own

Sonnet Xl by William Shakespeare

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.
Then if for my love thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest;
But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief
To bear love’s wrong than hate’s known injury.
Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.

Sonnet Xlv by William Shakespeare

The other two, slight air and purging fire,
Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
The first my thought, the other my desire,
These present-absent with swift motion slide.
For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,
My life, being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, oppress’d with melancholy;
Until life’s composition be recured
By those swift messengers return’d from thee,
Who even but now come back again, assured
Of thy fair health, recounting it to me:
This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I send them back again and straight grow sad.