If I were honest I'd tell you I'm afraid.
Afraid of you and the possibilities,
Afraid if I open up and share that everything will disappear.
My track record is proof of that.
Am I too real for people?
I'm not a carefree soul who has yet to be tarnished and broken down.
I've been down before,
More times than I'd care to count,
My soul has weeped,
Mind stretched too thin,
Nerves have been frayed to their last strand.
If I bare all of that- why would you stay?
I'm too young to be this tarnished,
Like a polished, vintage chair-
People say it adds character
I say it's delicate, that if you sit in it, it'll break.
It used to be as strong as the mighty oak, able to carry everything it held,
but- no longer, as anything that becomes antique you must care for it properly or watch it, slowly, but surely, wither away.
If I were honest, you'd discover that there's a lot of history my smiles have chosen to hide.