I mean deep down inside the true me?
What I like
The way I feel…
But they don’t.
No-one really knows the real me,
This person screaming out trying to be heard,
The me that is muffled by the person everyone sees.
A character or a role I play out,
Can I really be myself?
At home alone I think of how people would view me
If they knew the truth…
The real me
My soul, me,
On view to the world,
Would they treat me the same?
Would they care as much?
Worry as much?
I don’t know.
People can be fickle sometimes,
They play a role too,
Never showing their true colours.
They say the world is a stage,
I would agree.
Everyone playing a part,
Never showing their true feelings,
Their real self.
Why do we do this?
No-one wants to be judged for who they are
Ridiculed for being themselves,
So they begin to play out a role,
The role society has mapped out,