It's three in the morning.

My friend asked me

My friend asked me on a perfect evening.

Why I'm always so composed.
In front of a room full of strangers,

In front of cops.
In various scenarios, for various reasons.

In front of ladies of the night. That night.

The callous crawled old man shutting.
Shutting 'What you looking at!' In your face.
like he's still a 19 years old futureless punk.

The kid in tracksuit,
under the lamplight of a,
24/7 sandwich shop.
Asking for change with both hands in pocket.

The exchange student,
with hazel hair and hazel eyes.
And voyager pulsar map on her wrist.

How do you stay composed?
In front of people in general. Like em or not. 

I told him to stop messing up my aim.
Before missing that,
Perfectly aligned green six.

We laugh.
Thank goodness we laugh.
Otherwise, my secrets impart.

Hell. As if I wanted to.

How could I be troubled.
By people I don't care two bits.

It's a poisonous gift.

Being worried, nervous, frightened,
anxious, repellent,
unable to speak in front of people.
Those are good.

Trust me.
Care a little more.
Not a little less.