You see me
Through another's eyes.
The jaded images of
How I look
How I act
How I move
Am I that guy
You've heard about
From the rumors
Or do I just happen to be
The badass on the outside
Without checking with
The good guy within?
Does it look like I care
Whether or not
You're looking at me
When you look at only sides,
But not the real picture?

You read me
From another's story.
Am I good-looking on paper?
Raise your expectations
Only to be disappointed
In the end
By the "word"?
Or do I sound so horrible,
I seem as objectionable
As Amish technology?
Would you like to have
The real story?

You hear me
From another's words.
Do I sound good enough
According to them?
Or am I just something
You hear about all the time.
Nothing too new,
Nothing too great,
But all so surprising.
Do you really
Want to hear
What's with me?
Whether it's good or bad?

Yet you're afraid
To touch me,
Or smell me,
Or feel me.
Little old me,
In fear of difference
From what's known.

Tell me something
Through that vision of yours
The gift of untold strangers
False proclaimers of the source,
Jaded more by the colors…

Do you actually believe
What you see is what you get?