When I tell people I am shy
Just because I am loud and insensitive
Does not mean that I am not something else
Scared of questions that penetrate my too ripe skin.
Questions that prick my outer membrane
Until I am left
My hidden juices dripping from greedy hands.
Hands now sticky with my truths.
Scared that all they will find
(Once they bite through my brightly colored flesh)
is an empty core.
An oval shaped hallow devoid of any pit
An empty space that will never
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