• Existence
    This existence
    It can be such a lonely one…
    This world is all we have
    And all it has is us.
    A bunch of cut out paper dolls…
    Ripped and torn
    Wrinkled and crinkled.
    How can we accommodate
    All this new skin
    That has come to replace paper?
    Holding us together
    Yet keeping us apart.
    The only connection
    Between fragile hearts.
    Pasty little dolls
    Paper thin
    So full of sin…
    Who know nothing of smiles
    Or frowns
    Who know no embrace
    And cannot understand disgrace.
    These dolls
    They can bleed…
    Am I wrong?
    They bleed,
    But all they have done,
    Is contribute to the feeling
    Of loneliness.
    They are simply mannequins
    Possessed of the will of the dead…
    Those who gave up looking for what they would never find.
    There are so few of us left,
    Who know what it means
    To be really alive..
    Oh so happy I am
    To be real
    And not just a mannequin.
    I have skin,
    I have thoughts,
    And I sure as hell
    Know what happiness is.