I spend most of my time, explaining who I think I am
It's taken me this score and some to figure myself out
I'm too impatient to wait for someone to get to know me
For I might hate what they come to figure out
I know that I am shy and I hate too much attention
But in a crowd, I make efforts to be the loudest
Maybe because I can project someone else
Maybe because I can hide my vulnerable self
I talk with volume, but hardly substance
And when I write my fears are revealed
I battle with my image, both body and of intellect
I shudder to think you might see who I truly am
Underneath the layers of pride, there's my frail disposition
Maybe one day I'll learn not to hide under the lies
But until then, would you mind, to please just take your time
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This is beautiful....now write something funny....cause you are also very funny
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