Changeling

Overcome with anguish each time I wake up in this skin,
Longing every moment for someone who understands,
Who would want to know this feeling and to sense my form within?

My goals are earned for others' sake; I work to make this body thin,
Keeping suicidal thoughts at bay by taking on crushing demands,
Overcome with anguish each time I wake up in this skin,

But lofty goals are difficult when you'd rather die than win,
And feeling like an object when they crave my mouth and hands,
Who would want to know this feeling and to sense my form within?

I'm waved off as melodramatic or accused of sordid spin,
For my way of knowing people and the things their heart commands,
Overcome with anguish each time I wake up in this skin,

I think back to the ghostly child who felt the brush of ancient kin,
Who evoked the fear in feeble men more oft than finding any fans,
Who would want to know this feeling and to sense my form within?

Whether fair folk be, aos sidhe, a demon, or a djinn,
I only say with certainty that I hail from distant lands,
Overcome with anguish each time I wake up in this skin,
Who would want to know this feeling and to sense my form within?