social phobia
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This prison I carry,
Till my time ends and they bury,
Is but a shell of the truth,
Of what I was since youth.
The prisoner hides,
Till the voices subside.
And will only be free,
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.
A baby, that doesn't cry.
No control.
A child, that doesn't speak.
Timid and shy.
A teen, afraid to speak.
Isolated and alienated.
Feeling misunderstood.
Fear of being uninteresting.
