It’s been so long since I last saw my
reflection; confusion has kept me far from what mom and dad said was
perfection.
My inner yearnings have led me down a path of
defection; afraid I have lived my life scared of true detection. Always I knew what was supposed to be the
direction; yet, this train of thought put me in a state of complexion. Judge me not my loved ones, for all I want is
your acceptance and affection.
If I could I would slip this skin; just to
see an honest grin. Will I ever come to
the end... or win? Or will I always be
seen as the boy that lives in sin?
Crying I lie in bed alone drinking my gin; thinking of what could be or
what would have been.
Hope leads me to believe one day I’ll have a
real connection; one that will meet all my wanting predilections -- one that
will be seen without objection or inspection... yet, in me causing an infection
that will see no need for correction.
No... no dissections, or ejections, or projections of senseless
obligations.
Will you help me slip this skin? Or will you just come on in, and allow me to
not have to be the man of tin? For a
heart I have, though it may be weak and thin.
Don’t listen to those that say I belong in the loony-bin; come within
and see for yourself what lies therein.
I promise I will not disappoint if only you can get passed the
chagrin.
I do not want to waste away in the corruption
of my infection; please, come and save me from this intolerable inflection that
stands as an insurrection. This hatred
that greets me at every intersection kills me to the point of no
resurrection.
If I could I would slip this skin, not
because I want to, but because I’m tired of taking it on the chin. Don’t see this writ as a boy weeping with his
violin; instead see your mocking and silent bullying as the ORIGINAL SIN!
I WOULD... I WANT TO SLIP THIS SKIN...
