dirty work.

Even though it may seem hopeless
I swear I'm trying, trying to breathe.
I want to unfold and surprise the whole world,
but the climb is much higher than I could've forseen.
The mirror doesn't help for more than a moment,
the face that it shows just fills me with rage.
All scarred and sold, unfamiliar and old,
exposing the transparent bars of my cage.
I've only known the eyes of judgement,
while people torture me with their jealousy and pain.
So when you cast your glance, and I look confused,
please know it's their dirty work that remains.