Poems.

Im too shy.

I am a oyster in a world of butterflies.
Everyone around me is flamboyant and extravagant. Meanwhile I'm- I'm not exactly sure what I am. I guess I was a hard shell to open considering everyone has given up before they've met the pearl. The pearl: the version of myself that I can be when I'm alone, or with extremely close friends. Not many have met the pearl. Only a few. Maybe seven people. Seven people have met the real me. ((And all of you reading this. Since I write about real things and my thoughts.) But in the physical world, seven.) I don't talk with one of them anymore. She went and told lies about the real me. About the pearl. And since I'm too shy and no one really knew me, they believed her. No one actually talks with me anymore. They have all given up. They were so close to opening the shell. But they stopped. They gave up. They cut off all contact. You can't force someone to spill everything when someone once betrayed them. I'm too shy, and I know that for a fact.