I can’t believe I have let you into my little world
the aspect of me I keep classified and entombed,
a bit twisted, mangled, truthful, yet burled
with such attributes, no mystery that I am doomed.
I have tried to keep it wrangled like a rodeo round-up
although near impossible to keep it all in my head,
better luck trying to corral and keep locked up
a bloodthirsty, drunken steer that hasn’t been fed.
Sometimes it’s effortless to detect on the outside
I cannot help looking and acting a bit nervous,
when the anxieties and crazy psyche dives in
like seabirds, angling baitfish nearing the surface.
But I seem to have confidence in you for now
I am also happy and thrilled to call you my friends,
although I cannot say that I fully trust you yet
for trust is the rationale from which my insecurity stems.