I'm the extinct type that still survives
in the mystic ocean of mood swings
A type that smiles and strives
too soon and too many changings

I'm the type that's blamed to be optimistic
the struggles of mystic happiness inside
A type that overwhelms, not fantastic
But it has love, gratitude than pride

I'm the type that the majority loves
My bad, who weeps silently even then
A type who's blamed for curves
Yet, who notices what's inside the den?

I'm the type that's never aggressive
Mercy is my character, thus it seems I've
not felt any wrong, but I'm defensive
thus criticized in the face of love

I don't know but when I bang
the doors to hide tears
They say I'm an egoistic slang
and ask, "Do you have the same fears?"

© Sabita