How Little They Know (1998) Poem by Lillian B. Rose

What is it I see in you
a critic, a wretch, a clown
humor seems your way of life
while mine is tumbling down

If you think me a child
If you think me unwise
Oh how little you know
about the world of disguise

my stiffness - a mask
My quiet - a guard
hides my sensitivity
to a world of ill charms

why must it be this way
I've often asked myself
for to let people see what's real for me
is a disaster in itself

so I keep myself protected
on the edge of all I do
Opening the door to sensitive souls
Only to close it again on you