I keep the parts of me within a series of compartments
Like they’re different people living in their own unique apartments
One is made for working, his demeanor is consistent
He can recognize emotions but his own are very distant
All of his intentions he can qualify and measure
And he seems almost immune to any moment of displeasure

Another part of me is only there to talk to strangers
Always partially prepared to handle ignorance or danger
He’s pleasant and he’s civil and he’s calm in disposition
He’s an actor on a stage, his presentation an audition
He’s just a representative that handles a dimension
That I don’t know how to navigate devoid of apprehension

For those who I’m familiar with, another me arises
With a penchant made for keeping peace with constant compromises
He never wants to burden, doesn’t ask for any favor
He’s comedic and he’s honest and he isn’t known to waver
Still, he never offers any view below the surface
He’s a cover for the cuts and all the cares and all the curses

And lastly, there’s a me I only see in my seclusion
And he’s either really me or he’s a terrible delusion
You’ll never get to meet him and it’s pointless to inquire
He’s omissive and suspicious but he’s never been a liar
He keeps the shutters shut, the lights are off in his department
And he holds all of the keys and he controls what gets to be in each compartment