Under The Carpet

Where Secrets Are Swept

Pleasant conversation and congenial discourse
Among others escapes me. I’m low at my game.
Difficult and contentious and sometimes profane
With most others, I seldom have something to gain.
I’m swept Under The Carpet and fettered with shame.
For the things I have said I’m consumed with remorse.

It may be that I rub others quite the wrong way.
I may show my affection yet some would recoil
Thinking I may be threatening. I’m out of line
When I feel I’ve done nothing and everything’s fine.
What is true to my nature can cause much turmoil.
Should I keep to myself and have nothing to say?

Sometimes I’m hypersensitive and I may lack
The required mental discipline for social play.
No one needs to remind me when I am this way
But they do and aggressively to my dismay.
Delicate is my dance somewhat like a ballet.
If I do rather poorly I’m prone to attack.

Reasoning becomes secondary to my peace
Which is clearly ass backwards. So what I must do
To ensure readjustment is to play along
As if I understand things. How could I go wrong?
Where I find myself swept I may find yet a clue
To escape this rut so that my charm may increase.

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