I’m feeling strange — like I’m inwardly deranged,
becoming personally changed, with words that slam inside my head.
Instead of sorting out the change, distortion blocks my thoughts instead:
my thoughts of you, my thoughts of them, my future thoughts that seem to stem
from inabilities to find out what I need and what I lie about.
To lie inside myself — my body speaks about the truth, yet I’ve connected with so few.
It’s like I never even knew that what I know has never grown
to change the emptiness inside, interestingly divided by the tones of my own views —
never slanted, never skewed, forever planted in my youth,
when I decided, long ago, that I would never stop or slow;
that I would represent the light and carry forward with my fight.
Where I find the power still resides, abiding rules I have inside,
I feel prevented from a change, bent on will that’s ever strange.
And as demented as I feel, my self is set as hard as steel:
never will I give in fully; never will I be so broken
as to give in to the rest I spent my life so far to best.