I walk in museums
I see all the pretty pictures
hanging like dead dolls
contemplation
on many faces
sadness within the walls
in a wheelchair
over there
he cant even stare
but he sees me I know
I smile
the painting was hidden
not framed
yet still within these halls

Before I met her
I used to dress myself.
Donned in paisley,
I had class and style.
She cut out my Calvin Klein heart
and now I look like
my grandpa.
Oversized golf shirts,
and slacks to match.

I used to dress myself.
It sounds absurd
but it's true.
I was dangerous, I lived
on the edge.
She said,
"You're not a gangster,
so quit dressing like one.
Here, put this on.
It's really cute."

I used to dress myself.
And now I'm
safe and sound in
cardigans and corduroy.