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I wish I’d been born
With a silver spoon in my mouth,
A legacy of doctors,
That I’d wanna follow,
And a wardrobe of shades,
Neutralities of gray,
But when all is said and done,
I wouldn’t change a thing,
All I’d hope,
Is to still find you here.

I’ve kissed and I’ve stumbled,
Been bruised and I’ve stuttered,
In my dreams words fly,
In narrow pastel ghettoes,
And I still don’t know who I am.

Everywhere I turn,
I’m cast in foreign molds,
Half numb as not to feel,
Unknowingly, I paint,
Bar codes on my neck,
Hide as not to face
But the shadows still haunt me in air.
With the reality
That I still don’t belong.

Strung out on a dream,
Of cobalt black lips,
And my fears pierce my side,
Like my ghosts live in corners,
Survivor before crusader,
And yet, when all is said and done,
I wouldn’t change a thing,
All I’d hope,
Is to still find you here.

From the vault of my teenage years.