Glass Box.

I am a prisoner, and this glass box is my jail cell.

Paralyzed in my own skin. A tourist at my own home.
You see, the glass which traps me is so bluntly transparent that I can see others living a life in which I so desperately beg for. And the glass is thick enough so I cannot break out, but thin enough that I can hear their laughter, their pure jubilance.
Is it wrong to pray for the gift of deviance.. Is it wrong to try and hide behind this mask of jovial deceit..
Is it wrong to wish I could delude their precious vision..?
Through these damned glass walls I appear as a Saint, but Im ready to be a Sinner. Because sometimes you've got to get your hands dirty if you want a clean slate.

I am a prisoner, and this glass box is a jail cell.