I dreamt about a young December (when I was just a child; not much to remember). Everything was peaceful, calm, and kind (the darkness came upon me and corrupted my young mind). The world has greyed over the years (all the things I feel have been blackened by my tears). The child was held down to the table (you will never know what it's like to feel stable). I force a smile as I weep inside (someone tell the world that the child has died). I turn to stone; my spirit's numb (someone tell the only Emperor that I'm cold and dumb). And here I find myself stranded and alone, knowing things that no one deserves to have known. I want it to be over, I just want it to end, but I keep thinking about it againagainagain— there is no other option, it will end with me dead. Lay roses on my grave, lay roses bloody red. Dear God, there's nowhere else to go (here I am right now, buried in the snow). There is no path that I can follow (be a good small boy, hurry up and swallow). There is no way I can escape (feel yourself bleed out as you lie in fields of rape). There is no one to hear my call (writhing in your sleep as you remember your own fall). No one will hear me as I scream (you remember all your nightmares as they replace your dreams). I'll just give in to my own destruction (sometimes it all comes back in a violent eruption). And here I find myself stranded and alone, knowing things that no one deserves to have known. I want it to be over, I just want it to end, but I keep thinking about it againagainagain— there is no other option, it will end with me dead. Lay roses on my grave, lay roses bloody red. My face is torn by flaming tears (look, how pathetic, she's clinging to her fears). I lay me in my bed without a breath (surely she is ill with a sickness unto death). I can't understand why it was me (it really gives you a sense of life as tragedy). And I slip the knife under my pillow (the dagger is stained with blood underneath the willow). I swallow a hundred and go to bed (your ears are ringing loud and everything's stained red). My soul was trapped while I was ravished. (Who the fuck am I to be smiling as I'm savaged?) And here I find myself stranded and alone, knowing things that no one deserves to have known. I want it to be over, I just want it to end, but I keep thinking about it againagainagain— there is no other option, it will end with me dead. Lay roses on my grave, lay roses bloody red. There is no other option, it will end with me dead. Lay roses on my grave, lay roses bloody red. There is no other option, it will end with me dead. Lay roses on my grave, lay roses bloody red. Lay roses on my grave, lay roses bloody red.

I ask myself every day: 'Am I wearing a mask for a play? And is the mask of a girl or a boy?' This agony gives me no joy. It's a question of my heart: 'Shall I stay or should I restart?' So many broken years, so many needless tears. As they call me to harm, I'm bleeding from my arm. Red like roses, these scars will meet in falling stars. I wear a masculine mask and to wear it is quite a task, for I am a lady beneath, and soon I will unsheathe. Shame and doubt plague my soul and confusion takes its toll. Trapped in my very own flesh, what am I but a wretch? I dressed as a girl when I was alone as if I was to atone for the dissonance in my mind. How could I have been so blind? Who I am I still can't tell, but I know I'm climbing out of this hell to live as the lady I was born to be: winged, unconfined, boundless, and free.