The world around me casts its shadows over me.
Wanting it to be aware, the blemish on ***** flesh.
The wrench in the cogs.
Wrong. Displaced. Alien.
I am a danger in this place. All but eyes shrouded.
Staring longingly from the dark.
Knowing you see me.
Painted by numbers. With hate. With shame.
With strange curiosity of the other.
With understandable fear of loss.
Fear of alteration. The change of state.
I rumble alone, a calling out. Indistinct and alluring.
These words I speak and words I write, are for me.
I cannot be the me you see. This glass reflecting
me as a monster is weak when confronted.
In alleyways, with baseball bats. With knives.
Snide looks and textbook descriptions. Hurt,
maybe dead.
Though,
I still cannot be what you want me to be.
Sin at the edges. Revolution at the walls.
Only so long shall pass before we breathe
war cry deeply in our lungs.
And let it out.