Disclosure and confusion.
Deeper depths of the hidden illusion,
Down beating at myself with cutting and bruising.

Say I be,
The man people think I to be
Would I then live my own life being free.

For the many eyes around fail to see,
Something growing higher to the skies higher than an old great oak tree.

And is it for sure,
Of my giving of little being of more.

From the dreams I hide deep inside my core,
Trying to find opportunities behind every open door.

I guess,
That I keep those type of things that are harder to confess.

Fearing of those seeing my entire life a mess.
But then again I do digress.