I think I'd rather be liked than known
And I know myself so much less than I should
Hiding myself away in different containers
lockets, closets, boxes, frames
I keep the parts of me that I dislike
In a trash bag
And they come clawing out in fury
leaving gashes on my arms and soul
Until I find the power to suffocate them
In another plastic bag
For a short time
Most of me I place in cardboard boxes,
Carry around until I slosh out wrong
And taint the box with the bad parts
Scrap that version and find a new one
Some parts I like, I place in picture frames
And face them outward so you can see
Till they begin to rot and your disgust
Eats through me and I trash the contents
I take the ones I like the most,
Place them away from prying eyes
Under my pillow in a locket
Trying protect them from my rotting
I puzzle-piece myself together to display
And no-one sees the whole thing, even me
I have a collection of my masks and selves
But I can never look them full in the face
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I promise I still know how to rhyme and write sorta well, I just have too much in my head right now
