I am a mirrored twin, the nostalgic one.

And I could hand you a sermon on kindness
But you wouldn't want it because
I've seen you kick down young children and grown men
With words and clenched fists,
Holding on to the things that you've always known.

You could try to strip away the skin to find out what's inside and
I don't know what you were expecting
Since my lungs could be your lungs,
Or my liver the same as yours, even.
We bleed the same blood from the same wounds
And my heart beats at the same tempo as yours.

I suppose I should thank you for shaping me,
Giving me my leather skin,
My ******, word-worn heart.

Oh, daddy.
Oh, classmates of mine.
Oh, teachers that never cared.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.