I am not the man they think I am,
Sometimes I think that I’m a sham.

To lie to most to make them believe,
That I am a better man than I seem,

Most days spent under a bashful guise,
One day will lead to my demise,

For I cannot contain the lies which spread,
They will not stop until I’m dead,

I wish that I could just disappear,
For I hate the reflection in the mirror,

It is of a sad, angry little boy,
Who uses horrid words as if a toy,

He locks himself in his dark cold room,
Ostrichsizing himself so no one can loom,

Now I know I am a sham,
I am not nearly the man I think I am.