When I walk down the street,

Talking to the people I see,

I can't help but wonder,

If who they see is really me.

 

To them I am funny and kind,

I always have a smile on my face.

God only knows what they'd do,

If they'd see what I'm like outside this place.

 

Fear of criticism holds me back,

From being who I truly am inside,

If people saw my emotional heart,

The cruel words they'd say would surely make me cry.

 

In truth I love to sing,

But only with the mic off.

My feet love to dance,

But only with the lights off.

 

At school I am happy and cheerful.

At work I am funny and polite.

It is actually kind of silly,

That I am only myself in the wee hours of the night.

 

My parents want me to be smart.

And friends want me to be cool.

All these expectations make it that,

If I were to be myself I'd be a fool.

 

The real me is often quite sad.

Stress affects me more than I let on.

However, I am not as depressed as I sound.

I can still smile in the morning when I see dawn.

 

To myself, I am obnoxious and loud.

I cry a lot more than I laugh.

Need I say anymore?

Or do I need to draw you a graph?

 

So I stay in my tight little shell,

Everywhere I go with a different face for others to see.

But, If you ask what I'd like most in the world,

I'd simply say that I would just like to be me.