Cliche Much?

I have a hot tea in one hand,
And a pen in the other,
While sitting on my porch with a notebook in front of me.
Most of my clothes are second hand.
I’ve been to almost as many protest rallies as I have been to birthday parties.
I frequent local bookstore, coffee shops, theaters, and music venues.
Civil Disobedience and Utopia have played the largest influence on my political views.
I drive a car that is older than me and often breaks down.
And I don’t eat meat.

I’m so fuckin’ cliché.

As I express concern for my cliché-ality to dear young mum,
She snaps me out of my pointless pondering,
“What the hell are you talking about?
You can’t be labeled like some pickle jar.
You’re my daughter and you aren’t just some indie chick.
You are just flat out independent.”

Oh my omnipresent being!
She may be right.

I started writing with a juice box in one hand,
And a piece of chalk in the other,
Scribbling out poems on the pavement as soon as I could write.
I staged my first sit-in when I was three.
(Barney and Kermit the Frog were present.)
Buying clothes secondhand and altering them isn’t just a fashion statement,
It makes me feel like I’m giving the articles of clothing new life.
I go to local coffee shops, bookstores, theaters, and music venues because I grew up in them.
Utopia and Civil Disobedience were suggested readings to me by my 11th grade English teacher.
(Suggestions she made after I told her I was a member of the Green Party.)
I know how to change a flat tire, jump start a car, and make a few other minor car repairs.
I don’t eat meat not only because I disagree with how the animals are treated before slaughter,
But also because my dad’s a butcher and even he won’t eat most meats.

Maybe I’m not so cliché.

You can call me an indie chick,
A hipster,
A hippie,
A crazy liberal,
But they’re just words.
Just labels that you can keep to yourself.