There’s a pass on the left/A place you can pull off/Some secrets and lies/You can wear like camouflage clothes/And although they cover your body

They scratch

And

Pull and impose

Passing strangers stare into you/A mirror or a local store window/To see what you really look like/An illusion of a person between here and there/A thing unidentifiable/dark and fair/And wracked with a history the world already knows/but still doesn’t care

It’s a matter of flesh and bone/A road you take that doesn’t lead home/A home that’s waiting everywhere you go/Still you’re not recognized/you walk alone

Along a path under the pass/where the changes were made/where the harmful and hurtful and boastful are laid/those cunning and quiet and beaten still pray/In the hope that the future is easy to live/you consider the pass on the left just a bit 

sister dora

08/25/2016