Not Made Of Steel

Mom's cleaning the toothpaste off the ceiling
It's such a pretty color,
(I think it adds character)
My sister's up in her room writing a sucide note,
dad turns up the volume on the brand new T.V. that we couldn't afford.
Me, I'm in the middle
watching from the cage that was forged around me
by a neurotic mother,
a psycho sister
and a dad who is never there.
If I move, I'll break these feeble threads
and everything will fall apart
but I'm not made of steel
though I've been hardened through and through
I can't help but wonder
how long before these bones of mine break?
My manic depressive, schzoid self splits
to help me bare this weight
but the load never lightens
And I'm cold now, a machine
but I'm still not made of steel
and there are cracks in my porcelain skin.