Sometimes the way I walk and a way I talk are noticed,
My words out loud are not always poetry spoken.
A look upon my face is perhaps seen as an angry glare,
To be safe is not always a smile shown, a distance kept.
Trust a little, just enough so that I am not fooled or taken,
Misunderstood I know I am, a judgement without knowledge.
Misunderstood as an appearance does not tell of who I am,
An impression to be observed, not always a story known.