When I walk down the street,
Talking to the people I see,
I can't help but wonder,
If who they see is really me.
To them I am funny and kind,
I always have a smile on my face.
God only knows what they'd do,
If they'd see what I'm like outside this place.
Fear of criticism holds me back,
From being who I truly am inside,
If people saw my emotional heart,
The cruel words they'd say would surely make me cry.
In truth I love to sing,
But only with the mic off.
My feet love to dance,
But only with the lights off.
At school I am happy and cheerful.
At work I am funny and polite.
It is actually kind of silly,
That I am only myself in the wee hours of the night.
My parents want me to be smart.
And friends want me to be cool.
All these expectations make it that,
If I were to be myself I'd be a fool.
The real me is often quite sad.
Stress affects me more than I let on.
However, I am not as depressed as I sound.
I can still smile in the morning when I see dawn.
To myself, I am obnoxious and loud.
I cry a lot more than I laugh.
Need I say anymore?
Or do I need to draw you a graph?
So I stay in my tight little shell,
Everywhere I go with a different face for others to see.
But, If you ask what I'd like most in the world,
I'd simply say that I would just like to be me.