Don't box me in or cast a name,
To fit a mold or play a game.
For I am built of "this" and "that,"
The scholar’s mind and the street-side chat.
I love the books, the heavy shelf,
The history where I find myself.
But I also love the city's beat,
The grit and life upon the street.
My moral compass does not stray,
When I step out of the light of day.
I seek the depth of a thinker’s soul,
But little jokes also make me whole.
I crave the truth of how we end,
Where life and death begin to blend.
Yet in the middle of the strife,
I feel for every human life.
Pop and logic, high and low,
In every direction, I will go.
No single label defines the art,
Of a wide and wandering human heart.
