The Perks of Being a Cuban.

All I’ll Ever Be

 

Who do they think

Who do they think I am? And why do they care?

Why do they think I’ve got so much inside?

So much to hide?

 

Really, no secret’s safe with me.

Cause I have nothing left to keep

Nothing within

That’s worth hiding

And you

I really have no need for you

Or anyone looking to

Save me

Looking to define me

 

Maybe I’ve got something deep inside

Maybe one day I’ll regret

All those tears I haven’t cried

But for now I’m fine with who I am

Fine with not giving a damn

Maybe that’s me

Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be

 

I'm not very good at poetry. But I wrote this because I really don't like how I have no emotion. How I have virtually one layer. Sure I'm sad once in a while, but not wehen I should be. I'm uncomdortable with sadness, and I think I'm dead insisde. It's scary. People think I'm deepm, like I have so much inside that's boittled. It's so odd that this is all I've got