I look in the mirror To see a young boy Masquerading Typecasted into roles with Skin-crawling costume design Constricting and waist-binding The seams searing the skin Molded to meet the suffocating criteria There is sorrow deep in his eyes Knowing he has deceived and deluded And performed this scene for far too long Acting restlessly in a futile effort to belong But he was never meant for this role The blinding stagelights and heavy curtain Even if he will miss the roses and applause He wants nothing more than freedom.
Look at me, Look at my smile that dances in the natural light.