They think I’m quiet, so they guess I’m shy;

Classmates look through me and just stay away.

My solemn look tells them to pass me by.

They think I judge them as way too cliché.

They think I’m too mature for silly jokes,

That I’d believe them fools for e’er laughing,

But if we talked they’d know it’s all a hoax.

I love to joke and love outdoors in Spring,

And the way sun reflects off my pale skin.

I whistle happ’ly as I walk to class,      

My sun kissed cheeks a hint of where been.

Then tread in class and quickly pull the mask.

To them I’m just a fly left on the wall,

And that is just what I want after all.