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.