the gentle girl with combat boots (written with the lovely Crimsin)

in the hectic froe of life I sigh within myself
I ache to be heard, I strive to blend in
alteration of truth I dummy myself down
a better advantage with which to observe

in the chaos I scream
then still my voice to keep from being heard
a misfit of adversity
seeking a likeness and finding few like me

combat boots with tenderness
a gentle soul at war with myself
substances dull it down to a quiet roar
still, it speaks and I have no choice but hear
what I choose to forget most of the time
I'm different than most
one on one I'm fine
in a group I'm odd

a girl in the midst of banality
craving carnality
sipping life's blood
I balk at normalcy
wanting to be one of a kind

I've always walked a line
I can't stay in the center of
wild uniqueness beckoning me
from one side
comforting conformity on the other
always hoping for both
never finding the truth of either

I'm at my most honest
when I'm stripped bare
standing in the spotlight
stubborn eyes daring
you to stand against me
and deny the wild in my veins

Instead I hide behind polite smiles
and make nice with people
I don't care to impress
and tell myself these combat boots
are made for bigger fights
when there are no greater fights
than the right to be myself