The beauty of comfort
Of humble confidence
Self-knowing
And calmness within ones skin
It's an unknown oasis
A buried treasure
A myth in the beginning
(The real me)
As butterflies reign within
As nerves and expectations
Create images and fantasies
Compiling a persona
Believed to be desired,
Desirable
What a tragedy
The absence of purity
What a charade
Fueled by society driven self-doubt
They can't love the real me
I barely understand myself
To ask that of others
Is just a game of chance
The charade equipped with a phantom dance
I'll be guarded
By shallow infatuation
Perhaps they'll stick around
I'll play my role
Till I'm tired
(And buried lonesome in the ground)