Him, Tom Pascal

Different
He breathes it
Sleeps it
Bleeds it
Cries it
The smiles fade
The whip of reality comes down hard on his bare back
It burns
Sears
Leaves telling marks on his heartstrings
They too scream "different"
For no one but he
Can feel as he does
He does not love "right"
Does not think, feel, believe…"right"
That crack in the window
The paint chipping off the softened, fragmented wood
Is wider than ever
The breeze now more vicious
Makes his tender skin tense with agony
His mind enraptured in sugar-coated dreams
Trying to mask
To dry the tears
And yet
They seem to engulf his spirit
He doesn't deserve this
Can't know why
The agony
The sweat builds on his forehead
Boiling
He cannot satisfy his soul
For if he'd been given just one chance
He would make everything
Perfect
But these wounds can never heal
Because to everyone else, they're anything but real
And he knows
What people don't see, they don't believe in
Well, its no surprise he's so talented when it comes to being
Invisible