For many years I have been looking in the mirror...and I don't know the person looking back at me...I don't know the face, the skin, the curves...who is this stranger...?
Touching this flesh, like touching someone Else's body..The feeling is not there, no sensation..Why cant ppl understand, why cant they see what is for the best, can they not see the realness of me crying out under the deadend skin and having to hide everything in like a deserted tomb??..maybe they do and they are happy and like what they are use to seeing, comfortable in there own selfishness, there wants they don't see the realness from beneath me.
This town will not allow me to change..this town will not accept it..I know where I need to be..others call the name I own under this skin ...they call me threw the mirror...They know were I need to roam..but they are there, and I am here. They see the real me..
The reality stares back at me like a doubled edged sword..To much time has past to find a way out now...And the stubbornness inside me keeps things at bay and my dreams into nightmares now.
People from my past stand like road blocks with there fingers in there ears and looking away, saying.."I know whats best for HER", SHE, the FEMALE.
Do they hear the screams of the real me, can they handle it, if I live again.??, If I break from this tomb?..No I think not.