Sometimes I feel like I'm beating my head against a rock;
A hard place to be, let me tell you.
Coming out saved my life,
As I saw the end coming:
That bright, beckoning light,
Like a doe in the headlights.
"Poor dear" in the headlines;
That's who I was destined to be.
Thirty-five was my expiration;
When you know you know
Yourself inside and out,
And no one believes you know; you know?
You know what's coming,
What's going on under the surface:
Overhead made of mental management.
A mind like a steel trap, but
Middling metal meant at best--your silver lining--you seem well;
At worst, you feel your being tearing apart at, well, the seams.
Torn: a part of you that shouldn't be.
That shan't be; that won't be!
That wants to be. Desperately!
Despairingly, dying to be!
And so, dying, you die or
Be you.