What if I told you I'm not what I seem?

Would you listen?

Would you laugh?

Say I'm being a freak?

I have no idea,

But the true me I know,

I'm a writer. I'm a poet.

And I love everyone.

I have no true hatred,

Although I've gotten my scars.

From myself, and from others,

Internally torn apart.

I cry, and I sing. And I dance pretty well.

I'm not that insane, lethal demon of hell

But here I'm accepted, 

Although hidden I am

Perhaps a few know me,

but that wasn't the plan.

They have kept themselves quiet, though

So my secrets stay safe.

Never pulled from my shell,

To the truly cruel place

Of the real world.

I am respected as I hide.

I am feared, I am loved.

All hope for me would vanish 

If I reveal myself.

Never will I be seen,

Perhaps someday I'll be free,

But my fear and insecurity now burden me.

I gather my courage,

I steel my nerves,

Yet still wear the mask

And unwillingly live.

I'm depressed, suicidal

The rage and love rise

You see the stoner, the gambler,

Not one who watches the sun rise.

I find beauty in all things,

But I spit pessimism.

I love freestyle rapping

and setting words to a rhythm.

I stay undercover, 

My concealment successful,

Wondering if my true self

Will ever prevail.

So I'll crack my lame jokes,

Behind this curtain I'll hide,

Until I work up the courage

To not live a lie.