I guess if I had to classify myself,

I'd have to say I'm a hemit crab.

Unlike the turtle whose attached to its shell,

Mine has always been changing.

I think I have found the perfect one,

Until somebody abandons my shell and I.

No one seems to want the shell I have, 

So I search for another.

Deep inside, where my soul resides,

I know that I wish I could face the world without a shell.

But you see, there is a problem.

My body is soft, tender, and vulnerable.

With no shell on my back,

My body becomes bruised, torn and weak.

Sure, its sad that I have become so pale from lack of light,

The person I am has been hidden for so long.

But if I were to let it out now, after years of darkness,

I don't think my gentle skin could take the sunlights rays.

There are times that I have tried to peel back my shell,

But before I even remove it halfway,

I am attacked by those around me and pushed aside.

Maybe one day, in the distant future,

I will find a place away from the sun.

I will find other crabs that have shedded their shells,

And we will all except one another for our soft and vulnerable selves.