A Private Road Trip

Read now,
And you will find yourself on a private road trip,
Across my body,
And through my heart.

You look at my feet,
And see those classic and well-worn Chuck’s,
That so many others wear,
And you think,
“She must be an original,
Creative,”
But I know the truth.
I’m wearing them because everyone says they’re cool,
Because I’m not comfortable
With my own flesh.

And you move up my body,
You see the pants,
They’re the ones everyone wears,
Because I don’t want to stick out,

But moving up to my flashy shirt,
You’ll see that I lied,
Like I always do.
I do want to stick out,
To be noticed,
But not in any negative way.
In a good way,
Because my self-consciousness
Makes me need acceptance,
But you wouldn’t know.
You all think I’m so confident,
But that’s a lie too,
Sorry.

And even more north
You see my face,
A happy face.
Is it really though?
I think that’s the faded trail of a tear,
You see lining my cheek,
Letting show my hidden feelings.
Scared, lonely, apprehensive,
But rightfully so.
My life is not perfect,
Just like yours isn’t,
And my hair,
It’s not perfect either.
It’s confusing,
A mess,
Like the mind sheltered beneath.
What do you think is inside?
Hopes and fears for the future?
Not really.
Regrets from the past?
No, not especially.
Imaginative and explosive theories
Of life, death, and love?
You got it. Right on the money.
And it’s crazy,
Uncontrollable,
But I’ll suppress it for you,
And keep pretending to be what you think I am,
Because I’m afraid to scare you away,
With the real me.