My closet holds more than my clothes and hangers.
Inside my closet, there is also a skeleton.
Wherever I go, people look at me like I'm dressed like an elephant.
No matter where I go, I always feel out of my element.

If I were in a crowd of people, I would still stick out like a sore thumb.
People think a alien mother is what I was born from.
I just wish I could fit in.
But people keep their inner-circles to tight together which prevents me from ever having a chance to slip in.

The person I am is a lie.
The person who I really am is inside.
And I would let that person out but it's to late to try.
For inside my mind there is a closet that I hide.
And inside that is a skeleton of a person who got trapped, suffocated, and died.
That skeleton is the person I wanted to be, but who I never let out. And now, the real me, can never be alive.