They think I’m quiet, so they guess I’m shy;
Classmates look through me and just stay away.
My solemn look tells them to pass me by.
They think I judge them as way too cliché.
They think I’m too mature for silly jokes,
That I’d believe them fools for e’er laughing,
But if we talked they’d know it’s all a hoax.
I love to joke and love outdoors in Spring,
And the way sun reflects off my pale skin.
I whistle happ’ly as I walk to class,
My sun kissed cheeks a hint of where been.
Then tread in class and quickly pull the mask.
To them I’m just a fly left on the wall,
And that is just what I want after all.