Why have I had all this abuse
For all the things I could not choose,
For all in me I could not set
About myself?  Why this regret
That I am trapped within this frame
I did not want but still became
According to the will of he
Who calls himself my Destiny?
Why can't I overcome this, my
Burden that is myself, and why
Can't I be who I wish to be
Rather than being stuck as me?
Why is this life to me unfair,
Unjust; why does it just not care
About myself and me alone?
Am I so bad?  Have I been shown
To be so odd from all the rest
That they should heed such ill request
To ostracize me from the flock
For all I could control?  They mock
The very life I dare to lead,
They scrutinize my every deed
And analyze my every act
To detect weakness in my tract;
But I will not let fate nor men
Distract me from my course again-
For once upon a time I felt
Despair at what I had been dealt,
Defeat at what I had to be,
Depression that I still was me;
And locked within the dungeon of
My mind's own creation, above
All things I felt bound to become
A flagrant waste, lower than scum.
Each solar pass I'd wile away
Alone in darkened rooms.  Each day
I'd yearn for golden wings to fly
Off from this plane, perhaps to die
And reach Elysian fields at last
Where in this mold I'd not be cast.
I was a recluse in the cave
Of people; I was kingdom's knave
Locked in my dull armor of rust,
Fed nothing but diet of dust
And made to dance by puppet's strings
Before the court of prétend kings.
And sick of their hypocrisy,
("Oh how I wish that I could be
Just like you, that I could have all
You have- but don't you try to call
Yourself my friend or equal; you
Are not what I aspire to.")
I felt prepared to fade away,
Admit defeat and lose.  To stay
Would be too bold with too much pain
With too much pressure to regain
The happiness that I had lost
And would not find again.  I tossed
And turned in sleepless nights beset
By dreams my mind could not forget,
By ill passions of poisoned heart
That tore its only world apart.
And so that blackened day I sat
Within my self loathing world that
WIth curtains drawn and blinds sealed shut
Was ready to pass away.  But
Just as that invisible hand
Was taking leave of my command,
A strange beam broke into the seal
Around me.  It had come to steal
My breath and captivate my soul,
And seeing it, my former goal
Of leaving all that world behind
Became background noise in my mind,
For now the thought which consumed me
Rested upon that melody
And that alone.  Each chord rang out
And resonated off my doubt,
Made victim by harmonic death.
Spellbound, at last I found the breath
To know that what I'd found was art,
That here at last I had the start
Of something I had never had
Before.  I was no longer sad
Beyond all hope; I was not dead
Nor prisoner of my own head
And heart.  This thing, this art now found
Had ruptured in me stagnant ground,
Breaking Pandoran box that I
Held fast inside, and to the sky
Releasing plagues of joyous mirth
I'd been imbued with since my birth
But never had known how to see
Or use or feel.  But now from me
All that I'd kept bottled inside
Had found release it was denied
So long within that ancient one
I used to be.  That me was done
With all his horrid days.  That me
Was dead.  And who I had to be
Was not my burden nor my curse,
It was not given for the worse
Or out of spite or petty hate
Bestowed on me.  Instead this state
Of suffering and hardship's bourne,
Of isolated displaced scorn,
Of lacking what I yearned for most,
Of being whale upon the coast,
Was not forged of neglect.  Instead
I knew the ground I had to tread
Was that where none else dare to go
Nor wish to let their sane minds know,
I knew mine was the undesired
Option; though I would be admired
And lauded for my courage bold,
Straight to my face I'd not be told
That I was welcome in their world
Nor needed.  To them I'm the pearled
Grain of sand within oyster's shell,
And irritation's beauty.  Well
So be it then that they must see
Me thus, for my necessity
Is not based in opinion's breath
Nor image. No amount of Lethe
Can erase pain that I have felt,
Or others who were likewise dealt
A cruel hand by villainy.  My
Only hope for us is that I
Can exact justice on those few
Bad seeds.  I know maybe some do
Consider all that I have done
As vengeance.  But they aren't the one
Who has been wronged by other men
And their evil.  They'd strike again
And without end if not for me
Disrupting their delinquency
And making safe each Gotham street
Again for children's tiny feet
To follow parents in the night
After an evening of delight.