People may call me naive, 
And that much is true.
I haven’t seen much of this world,
Nor do I know much of you.

I don’t know of the wars
That rage off in far places,
Or of the cruelty beneath
Pleasant smiles on faces.

Call me naive. I admit
I’ve been coddled.
Raised by good parents,
But with emotions all bottled.

I don’t know how to speak,
Not of my deep dwelling pits,
The ones rising to plague me
When reality hard hits.

I’m trying my hardest
To work with my short comings,
To slowly stumble forward
Despite my misgivings.

Call me naive. I don’t
Really know where to go,
What to do with my life
Or if it’s alright to say no.

You can’t really blame me.
Life has no manual, though,
What I choose to believe,
That I won’t let you cull.

People call me naive,
And I’ll even freely admit it,
But I know myself best
So you better off quit it. 


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