I want to shed my skin,
and sing under a murky light.
To bear out a shameless sin,
to scream with all my might.
I want to scream,
in a language I do not understand.
For I have no mind for words,
just the desire to stand.
But I have no power,
inside myself.
I have grown bland and meek,
left my will high up upon the shelf.
No fire, no drive, no dream.
Merely daydreaming, wishing.
For things I have yet to do,
for courage I may never find.
For a ledge to leap on to
a next, excited life.
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