Dear Diary : My Mausoleum
What am I three steps removed for?
Sometimes I feel so odd being adored.
I'm little old me, what's the fuss for?
What fuck for, maybe I should stop it.
Am I thinking too much should I just drop it?
This shell around me is a tomb.
It would do me good to leave,
Yet I may never be exhumed.
Even if I'm under the moon and in the nude,
There's still too many layers to get through.