Women sit, or move to and fro—some old, some young;
The young are beautiful—but the old are more beautiful than the young.

I have music in my head
A beat of a particular sound
Is it my blood rushing through my veins
Strumming my chords or have I found
some other percussion in me instead.
Whether I trail downstream to the pool
or to the purple prickly moors
My music goes with me
Beside me and behind closed doors.
It sings to me heart, a rhythm downloading
my thoughts to the breeze.  Wafting to the wind
blasting in the lanes as I go off roading
in my little jeep with rickety floors.
Bumping and grinding it does
behind closed doors.

Alright guys here it is.
No more rhymes to hide behind.
I've got a lot to say and not a lot of time.
So let's get into it.

I'm the kid in the corner.
I'm the one with my head down.
I'm the one who sits alone.
I'm the one who kinda likes it.
I may act out in the spotlight,
Crack a joke and get a laugh.
But in the end I'm still the one alone.
It's how it is.

For a long time I told myself I didn't care.
That the opinions of others didn't matter.
It never worked like I wanted.
But I soon figured it out.
The best defenses are assumed.
Not hidden, and not proclaimed.
These are the defenses that last.
Because they are simply a part of it all.

I had learned that the best way to hide my fear,
The way to hide my doubt
Was to act like it was nothing
And to simply move on with myself.
The scary thing is, that worked.
I doubt many know this.
But I'm crippled by insecurity
A poison I can't defeat.

I care what you think, I care when you notice
It's sad, but overwhelmingly true.
The anxiety I feel a lot of the time
Comes from the depths of who I am.
So go ahead, say that thing.
Tell me I dress stupid, or look dumb.
I'll retort back sharply and walk away,
But that sting will last.

My memory is too good.
Sometimes it feels like a curse honestly.
Because I remember each thing said,
Both good and bad.
So for those who took the time
To step aside and say hello,
Thank you for being there for me,
Cause I guarantee I needed it.

So to everyone reading this
Who never knew this before,
I'm too emotional for my own good,
And I hide behind that well-known pride.
Did I strike you as cocky?
I wanted to.
Did I strike you as prideful?
I needed to.

How else would I hide from myself?

I think I'm done with this poem now.
I hope you all understand.
It's not anything someone did wrong.
No, it's just me.
So enjoy picking my brain,
Getting a peek at the small introvert inside.
He's a sorry soul indeed,
I feel bad for him honestly

He's trapped in his confessional.
The walls keep closing in.
He talks to the walls, for hours and hours,
His head begins to spin.
He opens cans of worms and beans,
And tends to spill the latter,
Though no matter how long or hard he tries,
His confessions makes him sadder.

So pity the poor man you see
Have mercy on him won't you please?
It's up to you my closest friends.
He's on his very knees.
Listen to his confessions.
Listen closely, lest he fail
All he says is steeped in pain
His words could tip the scale.

My confession is over now
My time in here is done.
To all you listening in,
This really has been fun.
I'll walk away with my head held high
My heart, not so much.
I care too much what you think of me
My defenses, my very crutch.

Don't forget. Never forget.
He loves to love quite deeply.
So if you need an introverted, sad, emotional, hopeful, or quiet friend?
Come and see me.

I am me
And you are you
Sometimes
1 + 1
Doesn't equal 2