In this self conscious shell I am dying,
These tears I'm afraid of crying.
Introverted as can be,
none know the real me.
Can you get past my wall?
It is at least ten metres tall.
To one such as thee,
This may not seem such a great height
but try as hard as you might;
your ladder cannot reach it right.

I would offer you a hand,
If I so could dare.
Doing so would be to me,
one horrid nightmare.
So you're gonna have to come and get me
On your own.
The way to here, not yet known.
I would draw you a map
but I lack the paper and pen.
My saviour,
My extrovert,
Can you make it past the wall?
Past all of metres ten?

© Danni Goldring, 2007