Who I Wasn't, What I'm Not, Who I Couldn't Be

Flying through the present,
holding onto nothing.
Rotting in my brain
and then my past has been forgotten.

Rushing fast through galaxies
with dreams no one could ever dream.
I hold onto the afterlife,
as I'm not done with mine.

Running through a dream-to-be,
somebody else's fantasy;
I clutch a hope that isn't mine,
so that I'll get a smile.

You pretend to think I'm cool,
but I pretend to think you're not.
I pretend to hate your guts;
In fact,
I don't at all.

Flying into shrouds of gray,
as I fall in them everyday.
I walk through dense and cold alley's,
with things I wouldn't ever be;
Well,
if I were not cool.

Underneath this rock
I find the things that I am not.
I choose to pick them up
and put them on my head
just like a hat.

I drink a potion,
hoping that I can be me.
Keep the cup tipped,
then I drown inside somebody's esctasy.

Untrue, but so happy.
Beautiful, and yet so sad.
Smiling, yet frowns within.
Unable to speak of that.

Take my clothes that I currently wear
and placing them under the rock.
Taking the clothes that I never would wear
and putting them on;
putting on what I'm not.

Writing a diary, just for the lies.
Then writing more in a notebook at night.
"Who am I really supposed to pretend
that I am, when I don't even know who I've been?

"The lies are so deep,
but which lie's really me?
Do I have to pretend
that I know who I've been
when I don't even know who I was to begin with?

"Must I lie to myself, saying that I'm fine
when I know in my mind what I think is a lie?
Do I have to pretend on the outside and in
that I'm perfectly satsfied in my own skin
when the skin that I wear I stole off someone else,
and I hid my own skin under rocks inside hell?"


[This blood is not mine.
It runs through these false veins.
And these words are not mine,
for this is not my brain.
I know where I am now,
but not where I belong.
God forgive me for hiding my skin under rocks
in a place that is burning,
a place that is churning;
I hid my skin deep underground,
in a hell.
Now when I die I have to seek out my skin;
When I die,
I must enter hell's gates and start searching
for where I began;
Where I end.]