If you get to know me,
I'm afraid
you might not love me—
or even like me.
You would see what
scares me most,
maybe even use it against me
You would realize
I'm only fine on the surface—
that deep down, I carry wounds.
You would see the long
ugly scars that shape
who I am.
You would notice
the cracks beneath
the surface.
So I cover.
I hide.
I find a way out.