Locks for locks
and chicken pox,
a childish fit
for childish thoughts
Left for dead
left, right, red,
confused with age
but young in head
Youth will yield to age.
Truth will tell all rage,
hidden in a heart,
hidden in your art.
Expressed without much thought,
emotion caught off guard.
Perhaps your mask needs healing,
facades that must be peeling.
And still I'm feeling lost
Myself, my own, my frost
My cold demeanor falls.
They say, "Just grow some *****
For gender dictates most,
and blenders will play host
to mixing and to matching
pretending I am acting,
pretending I exist.
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 11:58 AM UTC
Locks for locks
and chicken pox,
a childish fit
for childish thoughts
Left for dead
left, right, red,
confused with age
but young in head
Youth will yield to age.
Truth will tell all rage,
hidden in a heart,
hidden in your art.
Expressed without much thought,
emotion caught off guard.
Perhaps your mask needs healing,
facades that must be peeling.
And still I'm feeling lost
Myself, my own, my frost
My cold demeanor falls.
They say, "Just grow some *****
For gender dictates most,
and blenders will play host
to mixing and to matching
pretending I am acting,
pretending I exist.
Written in red ink, so it's supposed be "read in red," if you will...