I'm a shy and anxious soul
often clumsy with my words
I make pitiful mistakes

I lack work ethic and confidence
I'm easily steered, easy to break

My clothes don't hang beautifully on me,
I have no clarity or grace
I'm embarrassing, ridiculous and often dull

I shatter daily, fall in love with the idea of freedom
yet crave solitude
I cry easily
avoid people

I'm not breathtaking or magnificent,
I don't stand out
I rarely elicit charm or charisma

I could trace each of our fleeting conversations back and
correct every word that I've uttered,

but I would annihilate myself before I hurt you even a little bit.