you stare at my eulogies,

looking for sympathetic tragedies.

trying to read between my lines,

as if i’m trying to hide.

and when the ending doesn’t rhyme,

you judge me.

because my life must be a song,

forced to fit silly corsets to belong.

you say words are freedom,

to slice through barriers.

but i see you tying the knots,

locking muses behind golden glass.

we can only twist the words,

but it’s you that can change the world.