It's Days
It's days are few,They are numbed.
Till it's spotted,
Till it's seen.
It likes to do make-up
But It is afraid.
It's not supposed to like make-up
Cause It is a guy.
He love to see the colors,
They expression and art.
But He's afraid of what might happen,
Of who might see, of what they could do.
So He does it in secret,
All locked in His room.
There He's sure no one will see,
No one would know.
He wants the world to see what He can do,
With a brush, some colors,
And a can-do attitude.
He is always stopped though.
"What will they say, what will they do??"
So he stops.
He takes it off, and lets the talent waste away.
He thinks it's not fair,
He knows it's not right.
Who are they to judge,
And why should they care?
It isn't their face He's painting,
They don't have to wear.
But they care, and He fears.
So He backs down, no hesitating.
So He'll wait for His day,
When the feeling is just right
When He walks out that room, and just says
"Hey Mom, do you like the look?"
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