Whispers, endless whispers.
All I hear are whispers.
As they try to figure out who I am.
As they try to figure out what I am.
She calls me a genius.
He called me a fraud.
He claimed I resembled a piglet.
He said my beauty was five miles long.
She said I was a simple girl.
She deemed me a conundrum.
He laughed calling me "silly girl".
Unlike the last one.
He said I was a wholesome girl.
She said I was a wild one.
She thought I was the jealous type.
He viewed me as a sure one.
Whispers in the air.
Whispers in my ear.
Whispers in my brain.
All that they is accurate, therefore, I can't complain.
For all I am, is all I say, a walking contradiction.
The finest of the finest wines.
A consistent, persistent development.
On Mondays, I am ready to learn.
By Friday, eyes are tired.
Friday nights, my eyes twinkle with glitter.
Sunday mornings, makeup free.
With my friends, simple not quiet.
With a stranger, attempts at fearlessness.
Different day, different story.
Different day, same girl.
Same girl, 2000 personas.
Each and everyone a part of me.