Shyness is covered up in various ways

You wouldn’t know most women even were

The way they talk, the smile upon their face

Their carefully groomed image hides despair

And men, too, though supposedly stronger

Escape the trauma through activity

That they love more than people, more than her

Indoors, she who must be obeyed, wifey

Why feed the shy with opportunity

When they can’t take it up, when their eyes glaze

Over when chances come, becoming rare?

Instead they’ll settle for a cup of tea

And a head full of dreams in which the praise

Is theirs without the struggle, the nightmare