I Fill Myself With Lies

I'm still experimenting with poetry. So, there we have it.

I don’t have my mother’s temperament
I don’t have my father’s eyes
I don’t have my mother’s social skills
But, I fill myself with lies.

I don’t have that thing that all girls need
That makes them smile at all the right times.
I don’t have that thing that writers have
That gets them through with all the right rhymes.

I can’t be that person that makes small talk
I can’t pull things from places I don’t know exist
My social skills should be a river
At best, they are a transparent mist.

But, I fill myself with lies.
I tell myself that it’s all fine
I tell myself I’m paranoid
I pretend to walk that fragile line.

I crossed that line long ago
Or, maybe I’ve not reached it to this day
Maybe I’ll never even come close
It’s too far out of my natural way.

I can’t be her
I can’t be him
I can’t be you
I can hardly be me.

But, I fill myself with lies.