Biasstinistic

I never thought of myself as one,
Bias.
I knew some things I enjoyed.
And others not.
With a comfort to prefer,
A choosing what I liked.
As a choice to make.
Pleasing my own taste.
Doing this without,
Believing these decisions...
Had nothing to do with the race of people.
Or that I discriminate.

Today?
I say I am biasstinistic!
Knowing what I like.
How I like it and enjoy.
That to claim myself to be,
Fits me perfectly.
Hoping not to be annoyed,
By the ones today...
Who are liberal, conservative.
Or undecided if on the left or right of life.
Especially living in an entitled society.
In which people seem afraid to admit,
What it is that makes them happy...
That last thing on their minds,
Is the approval sought to seek...
From anyone buying the food they eat.
The mortgage or rent.
Or any bill received,
Volunteering to pay every dime needed!

I know who it is I am.
And who is not,
Bringing me breakfast in bed.
Then to tell me,
What I should say and to who.
When and where.
As if I go out of my way,
To purposely embarrass...
Their charading of imitating pretensions.

The World I live in,
Has blessed me with an identity.
From head to toe.
Inside and out.
With no doubt to leave me questioning,
Anyone.
As to what steps...
I should make in which direction next.
Life to live and experiencing the facts of it,
Has been my teacher!
Not a substitute but the real 'thang'!