A poem I wrote myself

I keep my paint brush with me.
Wherever I may go,
In case I need to cover up
So the real doesn't show.
I'm so afraid to show you me,
Afraid of what you'll do-that
You might laugh or say mean things.
I'm afraid I might lose you.

I'd like to remove all my paint coats
To show you the real, true me,
But I want you to try and understand,
I need you to accept what you see.
So if you'll be patient and close your eyes,
I'll show you my all of my coats real slow.
Please understand how much it hurts
To let the real me show.

Now my coats are all gone.
I feel naked, bare, and cold,
And if you still love me with all that you see,
You are my friend, pure as gold.

I need to save my paint brush, though,
And hold it in my hand,
I want to keep it handy
In case someone doesn't understand.
So please protect me, my dear friend
And thanks for loving me true,
But please let me keep my paint brush with me
Until I love me, too.

The End

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