Reserved,
inured.

A hard exterior,
hiding the uncertainties inside.
Within a soft interior,
do I often come to hide.

Can anyone see
past the facade?
Peek through the aperture,
and battle the odds?

Can anyone see me at all?

Why?
Why do I have to hide?

Why?
Why do I cast everyone aside?

I need to open up,
to let them see,
more than an empty cup-
the better part of me.

To be myself,
is my simple dream.
To cast off the shore
and be apart of the stream.
...
Yet the task seems
harder than it should be.

Why?
Why is it so hard for me?

Why?
Why is it so hard to simply be?

Simply be...