I see the crevices where my mind has changed route
Where the blood has stopped flowing and changed direction
To kill off the illusion of rage and hypocrisy
There’s a skin shed in the corner of the room
no one speaks of it but me
Who’s skin is that? Who was left so empty?
I cry and point and stammer on revealing my weakness
Telling them I can only be human and nothing more
Not a god, not a demon, but the pattern of survival
And the louder I plead the looser the skin
til it falls to the floor
Just like that one in the corner
then a sliver of light shines between the curtain
Behind the scenes, behind the curtain
I reach out a hand stitched together
with puppets of skin.
They roar and laugh and join in in song.
What a masterpiece!
Everybody must sing!
Once in a blue moon
a shed human like me steps behind the scenes
With their skin in hand crying begging pleading to be loved
And the whole time I was begging and pleading with tears in my eyes
Hoping that just one other miserable misfit would shed,
step behind the scenes
And join me.