you look at my writing
with its careful vocabulary
and think I am pompous
you don't know how
I don't sleep at night
wondering if I can write

you see me at church
kneeling in my Brooks Brothers suit
and think I am smug
you don't know how
my prayers to God
ask if I am good enough

you see me at a rally
speaking for the poor and the homeless
and think I am doing it for fame
you don't know how
I know inside
I am one of them, too

you can't see my vulnerability
in contrast with what
you perceive as arrogance
you don't know how,
in spite of my sophistication,
I am still a child.