Oh how frustrating it must be For you to watch the being inside of me Become the thing it doesn’t want to be How degrading, the time you’re wasting Trying your hardest to make me feel Can I just say that I’m being real? Trying Your hardest to fill my well To lose the voices I know so well Well how frustrating, it must be As I sit here comfor’bly How degrading I must seem As I fade here underneath
This is a combination of a poem I wrote a couple months ago and a song I wrote a couple years ago. Last month, I painted something for art class, and in the description I described the bed to represent this idea of what is normal—a bed is a pretty typical thing for a lot of people, an everyday item—and how “our monsters” can hide under this mask of normality we put on. I think this poem goes along with that idea.