Not Meant to Be Mind Readers

I have never felt quite comfortable with you,

never to myself, or to you, do I seem true.

I'll say one thing and mean another,

this is how I used to be with my brother.

I just kind of feel like a complete idiot when you're around,

when words tumble out they make an awful sound.

I just want to be myself,

but I'd rather hide on a bookshelf.

Hoping that I will collect dust and webs,

meanwhile, my brain continuously ebbs.

Sometimes I wish I could read your mind,

but that's a scary thought about what I might find.

Your limited rhetoric,

always seems a tad bit prehistoric.

But, it could be that my way lives on the stranger side,

honestly, I'm not sure, if in you, I will ever confide.