Second Time Round I Call It You

First time round it's barely legal me
And all those burdens of growing up
Finding comfort, a straw to hang on
And not quite understanding why so.
In the background noise, the third panel,
Every now and then I spot a glimpse of you.
You never look the same, but you are you,
And I decide that I don't want to fall for you.
I don't want to know your name,
Though it's right there before me this one time.
I don't want to see you with your eyes open,
Though I'm melting in pockets, but also in the heart.
And then somebody grabs my inarticulate left hand,
And throws me on a pile I discard all from, but you.
There appears to be nothing left but you.

OK, then, you, it is.
It's all me, but I thought it was you.
It's me trying to find my place,
But I thought it was you.

It gets a bit too carnal in my head,
Because people tell me that there's nothing else,
And that I cannot possibly see anything,
Other than a combination of some damned desire
And that "please make me feel special" kinda thing.
It gets a bit too logical in my heart,
Because not all of us are born street-smart,
And this is nothing but a street full of thugs,
A swarm of bees heading straight for me.
It gets a bit too crowded in my gut.

I need to become them in order not to be killed by them,
Otherwise they will never let me breathe in peace of me,
For my ways are wrong and I am so strange, plus a girl.
I see your eyes and they put stickers of their eyes over them,
I never trusted myself, so they win me wherever I'm broken.

They win me through,
And thereby I betray you.
And then I get angry with you.
And then I say no more you.
But I stick around as a malcontent,
A malcontent who puts a mask of a kind heart,
A malcontent who walks around with a blindfold,
Like that time I could not see your eyes open,
Like that time I hid my happy eyes from you,
And then got petrified with my eyes glued to you.
I become a bully to me and I become a bully to you.

Sticky keys.
I turn on the sticky keys.
I TURN ON THE CAPS LOCK
AND THEN I YELL AT YOU
I YELL AT YOU AGAIN AND AGAIN
I YELL AT YOU TO MAKE SENSE OF ME
AND YOU DO, BUT I AM NOT READY YET
BUT THEY THINK KEYS ARE STICKY
FOR A REASON THAT IS TOTALLY NOT ME
Sticky keys.
I turn off the sticky keys.
I turn off the caps lock,
And then I see you yell at me.
You yell at me silently in my mind,
Because I am being so wrong but all
I can get out of it is that you are wrong.

And then it all changes when I remember her.
She recognises me and grabs me by both hands,
With whatever she has for hands, I don't know,
And says "Come to me, let the blue kick the blues",
And she knows what second time round means.
She knows a story, or two about broken things,
She no longer has salt, so she can heal wounds.

A couple of days later, it's you, all over again, it's you,
I bounce you from coast to coast like they bounced her.
Some call it a nonsensical pledge,
Some call it a feeling of guilt,
Some call it second time round,
Some call it the Supermoon,
I call it you.

Some say you won't compromise,
Some say you are so, so pathetic,
Some say you are stupid for your age,
I say you are nothing...but you.

Call it a pledge,
Call it devotion,
Call it nonsense,
Call it pathology,
I call it you.

Second time round, I don't call it me -
I call it you.
Second time round, I don't see you in me -
I see me in you.

I'll see you when you see me -
Until then it's you.

It's made of plastic, but who are you to say that it's not real?

It's made of plastic, but who are you to say that it's not real?

The second to last verse is not meant to sound perverted, despite the "carnal" verses earlier in the poem.

The performer in this poem: Me
The non-performer in this poem: The one over there
Special guest in this poem: She
The choir in this poem: Mental space invaders and their friends
Production: Ne (Extroverted Intuition to your mother!)
Sponsors: Caffeine
Anything else: Ummm, happy birthday, Mickey Mouse? Yoo-hoo?!

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