Tuesday, November 09, 2004
A feminine inclination within.
With a scarred face on the other side
by the acid attitude of a conformist society.
From a sexual identity crisis, how do you hide?
An anti-clockwise direction
Away from Nature's course.
Though perhaps this heinous sin upon me
Yet my desires set to spur me forth.
A struggle to come up for air
From this malestrom of internal battles.
Seeking solace and acceptance
From society's discriminating nettles.
A piece of music gone awry,
Diverted from its euphonious state,
Will no conductor tune it for me?
But on a different octave instead.
Blood meanders in streams of mine
Torrent of tears are prone as well.
Yet, some shun me because I'm not in line,
Since the day from their God's grace I fell.
