The whole thing, it made me smile. It makes you a part of something open and safe. A belonging that which is real. I now know how they feel. Then they softly drop me into reality. Where I begin to cry, discovering what I had forgotten. Once again. Only this time worse, since every verse is rewritten but with sorrow in every note making me weary and teary eyed. I know it's me. Again.
It's impossible to stay here everyone expecting the unexpectable. He was sitting there, he heard. Heard what she had to say, needed to say. Especially he knew what she was thinking as she stood on that linoleum floor waiting for it to be her turn.
Lately I've been sitting, thinking. What is it? What is it that is right? At the time, it all felt true. Now it's different, a nightmare. Was it make believe? No one much believed me. I could've swore it all occured. But, so long ago, seems as if it were all my screwed imagination. My imagination. With all of it's false contents of things illogical.
Your a doll. A plastic Ken, trapped in a box. Afraid of yourself. Unable to breathe. Your friends "watching" your every move. Don't worry. They won't leave. Will they? You guys have trust. Don't you? Barbie loves you. Or... maybe your stuff? What you got. Your box keeps you alive. There are millions just like you. Fake and handsome.
Don't you see he was just like him? Didn't you see the look in his eyes? The tenseness he held? Don't you care? My eyes were welled with water. Finally I seem unselfish of my thoughts. My mind, seeing you do this to everyone. Now I know, why I am, how I am. Your anger, my carelessness. Your memory, my remembrance. Why don't you see it was just like him? Why didn't you see the look in his eyes? The tenseness he held? Why don't you care?
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