Flaws & Thorns

Lyrics

My mind is a thicket of ensnaring brambles, They must be trimmed to prevent stumbling and falling. Catching my finger on a thorn is hardly a fright, But I mustn't ever let it go untreated if I don't want it to fester. On those nights where I work in a tense, feeble daze, I forsake treating the cut in favor of finishing. And those nights, I admit they're hardly my proudest, Especially when the thorn begins to fester in my mind. Those thorns on the thicket are so sharp and barbed, They latch onto any thought and poison it deep. The thorns descend a daze upon me of misery and brooding, Where the only thoughts that are real are those of my flaws. I find myself asking why I mask my own emotions, And why I often manipulate them to make them think I care. I recall how I calculate the curve of the jaw and brow, Careful to shut my mouth or eyes to create a shifting mask of emotion. Every moment that I let the tears fall loose, All of those moments of shame or sadness appear. I call myself weak and sensitive, Easily prone to emotion or to nothing at all. I query how chaotic my emotions always are, How I can go from rowdy to sullen at the speed of thought. My unchecked words and jokes about less joking matters, All of them reflecting the question "why would you say that?" I wish for self-confidence that I thought I already had, Where my wise advice to friends does nothing for me. The times where I choke on words and wonder how I'll stand up, The times I thought I was right all resurface in vivid detail. I wonder in agony why I am like this, A rebel, a nonconformist, and nothing but a prude. I ask myself why I am so protective of my body and skin, One who covers everything but wishes others would too. Worst of all I ask what others may think, Of my boyish clothes, or my carefree attitude. I wonder if they think I'm lazy, or inconsiderate, or a slob, And no matter how much I say not to sometimes I care too much.