If what I do is so wrong, then why does it feel so right?
Why do I wallow in the dark, when others embrace the light?
Everything bad to you is everything good to me.
I stare in awe at things people usually don't want to see.
I am society's skeleton in the closet,
rust forming on a bathroom sink faucet:
Inevitable to make you cringe.
I wear on my sleeve my heart and my sins.
Don't have to pretend, I am proud of who I am.
I gladly don a crown of thorns like the sacrifical lamb.
No need to fight the nails driven, it would be in vain.
Why should I? I must admit- I bask in the pain.
You could call me a martyr, but I deserve what I get.
I could easily die in a moment without feeling regret.
So please, express your disgust,
and I, myself, will flaunt my scars.
Just know if you keep hiding from yourself...
you'll never know who you are.