I only like to be looked at through foggy glass windows
Or maybe fun house mirrors
I only like to be touched with clothes on
After all these years
I only like to be looked at
Through finger painted hearts
Because looking through me when I was small
Is seeing me as art
I only like to heard through blurry cassette tapes
So you can't hear demons
Over the sounds of static hate
I only like my soul to be read
Through a written book
Because I can hide the crazy
Between the small cranny's and nooks
I only want to be felt in a painting
Hung on Golden hooks
But nobody knows I'm golden
It's all about the looks
I never want to be seen for who I was made to be
I never want you to know
The Real Me