| Written: MAR 22, 2001 |
Not much more than a silhouette,
Us individuals.
We are judged by appearance,
By your first glances.
Sought after,
If to the eye appeals.
Otherwise relegated to just friend,
Or worse thought less of.
Born lowly and without class.
I was typically ignored.
Some even took vengeance,
Upon me for not looking like them.
Now older I have fit and now change the mold,
I refuse to compromise fully.
Death would be better than becoming,
Them, the norm, the evil.
Thus it is now I am accepted,
My looks and clothes, my style.
It is now onto me to walk the walk,
To immerse myself in the Masquerade.
Alone I walk, transformed,
But for the better I have yet to find.
I am more liked, yet is it by better people?
Or do I now exist to appeal to the darkness.
