Who am I? to be exact.
Well don't we all wonder that.
We each think we are one way or another,
but act so differently with eachother.
Myself, I think I'm curious and smart,
but dumb it down to play the popular part.
My inner passions so often beg to burst forth,
but I'll keep them hidden behind a locked door.
For I'm frightened of being made fun of or spurned,
so I'll bite my tongue and feel the words burn.
Loud and outspoken I know is what I am,
but shy and quiet I shall pretend.
Each day the real me longs to creep out,
but I keep her back afraid, and filled with self doubt.
For fear is what holds the true me in place,
behind the mask that has become my face.