Paint Brush

This poem is from The Chicken soup. When I used to read it years ago, I just liked it.. as a reader. 

When I found this again today, I realised this is exactly how I feel right now, how much I can relate to this and how many people I love who should know this about me.


I keep my paint brush with me
Wherever I may go,
In case I need to cover up
So the real me doesn’t show
I’m so afraid to show you me,
Afraid of what you’ll do–that
You might laugh or say mean things.
I’m afraid I might lose you.

I’l dike to remove all my paint coats
To show you the real, true me,
But I want you to try and understand,
I need you to accept what you see.
So if you’ll be patient and close your eyes.
I’ll strip off all my coats real slow.
Please understand how much it hurts
To let the real me show.

Now my coats are all stripped off.
I feel naked, bare and cold,
And if you still love me with all that you see,
You are my friend, pure as gold.

I need to save my paint brush, though,
And hold it in my hand,
I want to keep it handy
In case somebody doesn’t understand.
So please protect me, my dear friend
And thanks for loving me true,
But please let me keep my paintbrush with me
Until I love me, too.

Bettie B. Youngs

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