Through the dense haze of society’s popular sentiment,
Which my immersed mind has come to deeply resent,
I reflect upon the ceaseless barrage of shallow praise
That contradicts my intentions and severely fails to raise
My spirit, from within the dreary, murky proceedings of life
Which, despite my appearance, is bombarded by hatred and strife,
I struggle to conceal the true emotions and feelings
That are scalded by the assault of your acidic outpourings.
Daily, I perish under the guilty conscience which has everyone fooled,
By the image I portray, which has been conveniently construed,
To falsely represent the desires which women so often crave,
As I contemplate this well-guarded secret like some perverted knave,
Whom, like all other devilish reptiles that scour every inch of the land,
Dreams only of the warm blood, which all men ravenously demand,
The soft, healing touch of a gentle, beautiful woman’s caress,
Of which I fiend for from the women who I always falsely impress!
