Good behavior and compliance.   

That's all it took to hide.   

Nobody asked questions as to why that child was so shy.   

They're so well-behaved, they said, mature for their age,  

but what they failed to mention was the disconnect with those beyond the page.   

They liked to read and write but mumbled and jittered during presentations.   

They became quieter and reserved with age, defensive at the slightest confrontation.  

They learned to be helpless, not planning to go far,   

but years later they started to share their inner scars.   

Their feelings didn't dissipate, in fact, they had grown.  

What to do now that they were aware of the way their anxiety had shone.   

It had always been there for as long as they remember.   

Loud noises upset them as did yelling family members.   

Hypervigilant as ever they try to walk with pride,   

               but falling short of being an adult always makes it subside.   

I feel I've done nothing, but they say I'm the perfect child.   

No drugs, no partying, no boys. I see, I’ve never been wild.  

I can walk on eggshells and act polite just fine, but what is my purpose?  

I’m a gold star until I say I’m mentally ill, is “being good" worth this?  

I must unlearn it all, be everything they once warned me of.  

It’s time to be free.