Stages between the pointlessness and the present
Stung me to be like the choosers peasant
First life career was acting the part
Copying the ones that made lives fall apart
Fake to be loved by fantasy replicas on queen’s chair
Scared of the freedom to cut my white hair
Mom buys outsized sweaters to hide the real
Here in between is the search for ideal
Bottom steps fall with the weight of my feet
A new type of love has converted my beat
Now I’m the wood in the world of metal
Wonderfully different with time to get settled
Every rip in my book was mended
With the tape labeled, never be blended