Wrong - a poem
WRONG
Bluish pale smoking sigh
As I hang my heart out to dry
Can you see with your mind’s eye
All your years passing me by?
Can you see me through your mirror
Can you touch me, touch my tear
Cup your hands around my fears
And hold me close for the next five years
I am sorry I am not so strong
If I was more patient, I wouldn’t feel wrong
I’d believe your kinds words if I could follow along
I’d feel good in this skin if I knew I belonged.
I am blank as a canvas, empty as a soul
These words are meaningless, and I’m afraid
That I will lose control, and I’m tired
Of being wrong, and a sinner, and a bad girl
And it’s no use to tell me what to do
Because in the end I always prove to everyone
Who cares, all three of us, that I can’t listen
I can’t follow directions, I can’t do
The right thing. I’m wrong.
I always will be.
