Those parts of me that left you cold,
my laugh too loud and eyes too bold,
I packed them in a box somewhere
to ease your fear a look or stare
would mark me different from the fold.
Together, quickly, we grew old.
Quicker still all the lies we'd told
to make ourselves seem much more fair
than real can be.
Now, I search for that battered, old
box to see if it might still hold
those parts of me I hid in there,
the parts of me that never cared
for doing just as I was told;
the best of me.