It’s like bearing a virus – sickness lies dormant until it’s too late to eradicate, slow death commanding this thing called life. I won’t be your displacement and your shoulder to cry, too late for ‘I’m sorry’ because I’ve already seen your intrinsic side, thinking you’re sly, I see right through your crafted lines. What happens to a man when daddy wasn’t by his side? Hyper-masculinize, I refuse to feel sorry for this grown-ass child. Alone by prophecy, and history, your stars align; step outside just once to see the bars you’ve disguised – as a character created from culture; Chameleon, push everyone away with your malleable smile. Puppet so zoetic, I can see the breath, chest rise – pull back the curtain to see the circus really come to life. Who’ll play your strings after the final goodbye? I’ll indulge the torment, seeing my escape as imminent – but forever wonder how you sleep at night.