My Own

A ditz, a klutz,
A clumsy clown
I trip myself,
As I tumble face down
I pick myself up
And laugh at my pain
I see whispers and stares
That scream “She’s insane”.
Go on. Say what you want.
It’s mostly all true,
What I express is my own,
But what about you?
You go about a prisoner of yourself,
Wearing your daily façade
To impress everyone else.
But the real “you” is forgotten deep within,
The applause from your audience
Is what you only seek to win.
Why should you care?
About what I do?
Or what I wear?
I’m honestly not affected,
By what others think of me
It’s not worth time,
What you get is what you see,
There’s no need to be ashamed
Why put on a phony act?
What I express is my own,
And I’m content with that.

 
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