Right. This is a poem. It's about me. And it very reavealing, but these are some things I want to share, so uh, here goes:
These are the words of a serial victim
Hung by his feet in a barthroom stall
For loving his love and giving his all
It was only a hopeless fancy
But it meant much more to me
You were out of my reach
In more ways than one
And it's been nigh on two years now
But you're a boy and I'm a boy
And that's all that they can see
But love is the same as it ever was
(But you'll never want me)
The people stare,
Well, I just don't care
And I'll stop the rain from falling
If a drop would hurt your head
I'll love you as much a I love anyone
But you're more interested in her. . .
I'm such a sickening mess
And as far as I can tell
The world will turn regardless
(I lost my bag again. . .)
"Is it wrong to love your love,
And give nothing but your all?"
Says the voice of the serial victim
Upside down in the bathroom stall[/i]
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