I feel this impossible pull between being powerful and dangerous,
Or soft and sweet and I can't ever have both.
My body feels like a prison, no matter what I do.
Stay the same and hate the shape,
Or change and hate the function.
Become strong and lose my vulnerability,
Or become gentle and lose my firm hand.
My body feels like a prison, no matter what I do.
Everything with a compromise,
Everything with a trade.
Every desire feels like a trap to frustrate me,
Every chance feels like a chance for a grade.
My body feels like a prison, no matter what I do.
Maybe this is the wicked result of discarding the rules.
Have something to play by, or have nothing as a guide.
Maybe the goal is to find my own direction,
Or is that just remaking the instructions instead of a tool?
My body feels like a prison, no matter what I do.
I've tried. I've redirected. I've changed it. I've worked.
You can't do both. It can't be done.
The only hope I have is to treat it like love:
You'll never know until the day it happens.
Cut yourself some slack, then;
Keep remembering it's about "if",
Stop caring so much about "when".
Is my body the prison, or is the world unfair?
You're dealt the cards you're dealt,
Trade them, buy them, or change them,
You still end up with the hand you've built.
Make your choices for yourself, the world is unfair.