I'm only gonna say this once- so it get it through your head,
There's not a thing I wouldn't do to block the voices of the dead,
Not a spell or sin I would omit to charm you back to bed,
Because every second without distraction is one I'm overwhelmed with dread

But the stressors are what drives me to speak and act this way,
I use their presence just to justify what's done to get me through the day,
And to show I might have purpose still- despite the fact I'm gay,
Despite the innumerable messages that tell me not to stay,

There's still substantial bits of me that believe this all can stop,
That since I wasn't always like this I might still halt this drop,
If I'm lucky I'd feel just a bit of my old yearning for the top,
Become the man they all want me to be- initiate some cosmic swap,

But fighting hard against these bits are the bits who want to drown,
Who yearn to ache and bleed all over every memory of this town,
The part of me who justifies anything to not feel down,
A withered crooked clandestine creature with a ring of smoke his crown,

To me the part I struggle with is I can't seem to confront,
The people close who look at me and see only what they want,
Their facetious feign of ignorance like poachers claiming not to hunt,
Saying nothing, merely praying I won't pull another stunt