Megan Lutz

My groups:

“Not being me”

Go out and paint the town in multi colors,

Scream at the wannabes going blockies,

Scull back another scotch, order another,

Make pretty smiles to the sleaze next door,

Eyes loose life so easily, but hidden

Beneath the pile of makeup, that is usually

Locked away in an untouchable safe.

Play up in other peoples clothes who

Have more confidence in me, I am scared,

Hide it with another drink, getting chatty,

Trying to ignore all the pain that has besieged,

A skeleton on the inside, made pretty by fakes,

I am not being me, and it is killing me.

Letting people run all over me, why cant I say no,

Like when I do when I am in my ordinary clothes,

Make up that makes my skin crawl, pores clogging,

Being dragged to clubs where dancing is the rave,

Prefer to chuck a few cold ones with mates and

Have a good game of pool where trying not to be pansed.

Can’t play in tight shirts, or hipsters,

Hair so tight that it wont come out in the tousle of sleep.

So many shadows lurk the clubs, waiting for pray

With a pretty face and average body,

Waiting for the vulnerability, so they can kiss it away

Then run out the next day, leaving behind bites

That will turn into invisible scars.

A promise to never change, I haven’t changed myself,

But I have let other people change me,

I am going to go clean off this make up,

No matter how good it makes me feel, it is not who I am.

Sunday, August 17, 2003