Hail to the mountains you said you moved,
Complain to the giant lumps of helplessness,
Proclaim those clandestine words you say to me,
Bane is not something I say I see.
Prudent and dainty, thou has called thyself;
Enlaced with the green fervent of corny nature,
Your smile emits not heaven, but hell.
Hold on to my infantile gestures;
Scold my eccentric ways, though they are unparalleled;
Gold is a heart which believes, milady;
Bold sentiments, alas, are all but a parody.
Strong and almighty, thou has called thyself;
A bewitched mirror calls out; an orderly exclaim,
The reflection poses a beauty, not brains.
Astound all the people who broke your barrier,
Found the future of false imputations, which you have;
Bound all the butterflies, deferentially, as well,
Mound my veraciousness; morals, along with, sell.
Unprecedented and disciplined, thou has called thyself;
With a tinkle of misty merriment, sometimes at most;
The truth of vice contains thee as a host.
Flame of ignition, a red in the white;
Same half hearted words, of blues;
Blame my flaw of mercenary, call out those ominous birds;
Frame my attire once again, for all I do is absurd.
Honest and liberal, thou has called thyself;
A finger at the queer, a thumb at the familiar;
The hand has been made to deny many things, should I say.
Deduce the pretence; now, today.
Educe my feelings, just this one time;
Excuse my nonchalance, for there is none;
Muse my character, let me try and be your sun.
Weak and futile, I have called myself;
Held together by rejection to perfection,
I bid thou to hear me, watch me, enjoy me;
For I am not one of them,
For I am not a lie,
For I am not heartless,
For I am not silly,
For none of those, and none of these, are me.
They are, and were, and always will be;
Words that define thee.