What makes you think that you know me?
Yeah, I am pretty easy to make happy.
But what makes you think that is what I want,
what I need? Maybe you just see the front
that I show to the rest of the people.
Maybe you just see the tip of the steeple.
Sometimes I look into the mirror
and I am filled with a sudden terror.
Self loathing, masochistic bitch.
Hatred of self burns like fire of a witch.
Sometimes, to know me is to get burned,
a lesson that some should have learned.
Does anybody want to get to know me?
The shifting of my mind like the motion of the sea,
the turbulence sometimes makes me ill.
Do you want to drink your fill
and leave me like everyone else?
No matter that I cherished you on the highest shelf.
I don't blame people for bailing out on this.
I know that I am not man's perfect wish.
Hell, sometimes I wish that I could follow.
To leave this behind, loose all of my sorrow.
To start over again, to begin a new existence
but I'd have to take myself and all of my defenses.
Sometimes I know that I will always be alone
withered and dying, like some bitter old crone.
I can't become somebody else, deny who I am,
god's most horrible gift to man.
Doomed to pain, doomed to destruction,
without you, I have to learn again to function.
Who am I? I don't really know.
I am not a loser nor anyone's foe.
All I know is that I can hurt and I can love,
my heart still beats like wings of a dove.
I really don't want to hurt any more.
Show me what this life is for.
You have shown me that I can rail against fate,
for life to come to me, I don't have to wait.
We sailed on together, but drifted apart
to lick the blood from our wounded hearts.
Now, I am just hoping that you will see
what your love means to me.
Written 11/20/00 AC