agita

unsure
from whence it arose
but always
quick to laugh
quick to cry
quick to love
i don't know why
overly, according to an array
of former friends and loves,
sensitive
i know i take to heart
too easily minor slights
and yet i oft forgive too much
wanting to please
to be seen as a good sport
agita arising
as confrontation nears
and o'erwhelmed by fears
i freak out or fade away and fall
terrified that disrepute by one
means condemnation by all
not trusting that the ones i love will stay
having before seen others simply walk away