I Shy
It’s that not I don’t want to.
It’s more that,
Something is holding,
Me back.
A force,
That is unknown,
And can be unseen,
To the eye of others.
A fear.
But really not.
Just something,
That is overly,
Passed off,
as…
a scam really.
When coming down to it.
It feels just as that.
Pity really.
So much could be done,
But,
This thing holds,
One down from doing,
Something all loved to do.
But is something,
I love to do.
To stand in front of it,
Smile with no care,
Share words to others,
And be able to do all over,
again?
Hard to say,
When coming down to it,
writing is really all,
I can do.
I want to…
Branch out to others,
Be part of…
Something that could,
Maybe be up there,
In the sea of stars,
But I don’t think I can.
To that,
Can I really be,
A true manic,
To expression,
Just as well,
As they,
Even with,
An strange voice,
That doesn’t sound like,
The real…
Me?
Who knows,
For it will never happen.
For I am just,
To scared and shy to do,
it.
