I always ask my reflection
Why I was made with less perfection:
Their eyes were blue and mine was brown;
I have rugs while theirs were crown.
I am unwanted and abhorred by phantom's eyes
For not a royal blood inside me lies.
As they live in castles where there's luxury,
I am here sheltered in a home of agony.
I want to climb the walls in between ourselves
To feel the pleasure of what they have.
But I can not and so I fail,
I am still a prisoner of the unwanted's jail.
No comments:
Post a Comment