I roam the world for myself
for something I can call my my own
I have buried myself in this act
I am now no more than a drone.
My time on Earth should be up
but she makes me live on
a fake face, a fake life no longer me
I am no more, all is wrong.
My past is a complete blur
my future does not exist
I have won the battle, lost the war
must go on, fight to resist.
The persisting lies turn to truth
my blacken sight looking clear
unknown anger builds within
so much pain, I cannot face the mirror.
What has become of me
who is the one in contol
my faith in all begins to fail
as they crusify my soul.
Am I wrong wanting to be me
will i become an outcast for this
why can't they understand
it's my personality, me, that I miss.
~November 26, 2006
