Is the skin you wear the real person or are you trapped in a disguise? |
In a Strange Skin I am an alien in these foreign lands, A stranger from another when. I am a visitor from afar Wrapped in the skin of men. Each day I see these humans live, Each skill I try to use. But they fit no clear cut purpose Or the path that I should chose. To those who see my coat of flesh, They assume that I'm one of them. But I'm still an alien visitor Encased in flesh and skin. When people see my skin, They don't see my face or name. They assume I act like the others And don’t see I’m not the same. I laugh when I am happy. I cry when I'm sad. I yawn when I'm tired. I growl when I'm mad. When I bleed my blood is red. When I hunger, I eat meat and fish. Doesn't that make me human? Did I miss a special wish? Maybe my soul is wrong, Or the skin upon my face? Is my gender the critical problem? How should I live within this race? Maybe I should be a demon, Since my intent would be clear. For demons have no souls And demons shed no tears. Do I need to please the masses When I enter a crowded room? Must I hang my head in shame And play as someone's tool? Do I want to be a human Who walked these foreign sands? I can't since I'm the alien Trapped in the skin of man. |