My true self is lost to even me
I've been transformed to a puppet by the outside
I close my eyes in a desperation; my mind blank
It's gone too far, my uniqueness has died
My art of expression has melted away
Replaced by a will of artificial beauty
The simplicity of my ways and habit
Now a complex life of despicable duty
There's no answer to a why; no reason
I've forgotten my skills with a lack of practice
I'm just repulsively typical and pleasingly normal
Not different; as the thorns of a cactus
Then why does my God, my thought
Bug me, taunt me like a fresh sunlight ray
Is there a possibility to get what I lost
Can there be a new beginning, a new way?