Shyness...

In my shyness…
At times I retreat to my “shell,”
Clinging to the security of being alone.

In my shyness…
I may attempt to merge with my surroundings—
To be ignored, unnoticed, a silent voice rarely heard.

In my shyness…
I can feel completely alone,
Although surrounded by people.

In my shyness…
I’m perceived as having a padlocked soul—
And few try to gain entry to my realm.

In my shyness…
Few will dare to venture to really know me—
To hear my quiet voice or to really try to understand.

In my shyness…
I can have a myriad of words to say,
Yet, my sealed lips will not release them.

In my shyness…
The words I do speak will at times be jumbled,
And I’ll feel worse for having spoken them.

In my shyness…
I will be viewed as “stuck up” and unfriendly,
Labeled by the presumption of a troubled past.

Yet, despite my shyness…
I will at times emerge from my “shell,”
And you may catch a glimpse of who I am.

And despite my shyness…
I may put on a good “front,”
Disguising my innermost insecurities.

Despite my shyness…
A select few will manage to penetrate these “walls,”
With the sharing of time and the evolving of trust.

My shyness…
Frequently unrecognized, seldom understood—
A shackle, a haven, a veil.