I could tell you that I tip toe across the cold wet stones, Careful with every movement, But I’m not. I’m unsteady, Unsteady as the current rushing beneath me against the slippery rocks. I could tell you that I’m dainty, Soft spoken and polite, But I’m not. I’m brazen, I’m honest, I’m emotional. I’m clumsy and I don’t have good balance on the moss beneath me in the water. I crack under pressure, I’m an anxiety filled vessel. I hate to be the rain on your sunny day, But baby I’m sorry, I’m nothing but the girl who fell into the rushing waters below.