Baby, you're just as frightening as clowns.

Sometimes I wonder what's holding me back?

What's holding me back from me telling you about my childhood?
About how I don't know my real father, and how I learned how to rollerblade this year, and how I didn't live at home for a couple years?

What's holding me back from me telling you about the odd things about me?
How I can't sleep without the blanket on my feet, and how much you make me smile when you sing to me, how I read because I feel alone?

What's holding me back from telling you the truth?
How I hate that you drink all the time, because my mom's an alcoholic, how I hate when you say another girl's hot, how badly I want you to send smileys when you text me, because I'm a paranoid freak.

What could it be?

I think it's possibly because,
I'm so afraid.
I'm afraid of falling in love with you.
Because, I'm afraid I'll fall out.