I wear black, sure.
I wear fingerless gloves, sure.
Sometimes I like to wear a ratty black skirt, sure.
My favorite shoes are my black leather combat boots, sure.
I put safety-pins on my black tank tops, sure.
I’ve dyed my hair black with some streaks of red, sure.
What’s wrong with that?

Don’t call me Goth like that.
Don’t look down your nose at me.
Don’t flip your pampered hair and walk so haughtily away.
This is who I am.
I am Goth, sure.
But I am not a freak.

So what if I paint my nails black?
Yours are painted too.
What does color have to do with it?
So what if the make-up I wear is heavy?
So is yours.
You hide all your flaws behind that mask of make-up.
I express myself with mine.

Don’t call me Goth like that.
Don’t look down your nose at me.
Don’t flip your pampered hair and walk so haughtily away.
This is who I am.
I am Goth, sure.
But I am not a freak.

Yeah, I listen to dark music.
I don’t listen to it because I am myself dark in nature.
I listen to the beauty in the lyrics, to the emotion and sincerity in every word.
Yeah, I read dark books.
I don’t read them because I feel like I want to relate.
I read them for the truth in their words, the other side of the story.

Don’t call me Goth like that.

I am an individual.

Don’t look down your nose at me.

I am strong, independent.

Don’t flip your pampered hair and walk so haughtily away.

Face the fact that I’m flipping you off – that I just don’t care what you think.

This is who I am.
I am Goth, sure.
But I am not alone.