Aristocrat, articulate

Articulate
your urge to see
me crucified
with palms out reached
projection of your
inadequacies
projected unto me.
I sacrifice my happiness
for your own
selfish
stupid
greed
I'd take a bullet to the head
and inject into me
malignant disease
I am not sophisticated
enough
or keep my cool for you to say
I fit right in
to your own skin
so let's turn our sin
to novacane