Mixed emotions on something like love
run through my mind
chasing Matthew McConaughey and Ty Pennington
through an obstacle course of women,
my competitors making me
an ugly duckling
in a pond of swans
as my DNA doesn't result
in a phenotypic product that is normal
when paired with how I feel.
I wish I could just peel this skin off
and find what I really am inside
not for me,
but for everyone else
who doesn't understand;
those who protest
and ask the questions
that demoralize my being
because my attraction is leaning
toward the same sex.
But who really knows
who they are anymore
with constant pictures of
Lindsay Lohan on girls then guys
and people in the media
always putting on a disguise?
So don't ask me who I really am,
because I probably couldn't say;
my brain's a hot fucking mess,
almost as confused as Ryan Seacrest.
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