Is this me?

Am I the one who loves to write?
Then why in crowds, I fright?
Do I love to stay alone?
Then why for people, I prone?
Do I sound sensible and polite?
Still why don't I courage and be quiet?
Is it a flaw to stay simple?
Or is it rare like dimple?
Is it a curse to be innocent and kind?
But why the world plays with their mind?
Am I actually perfect like the rest?
Or with imperfections I'm the best?
Sometimes I doubt, is this me like that?
Or am I a hopeless, nothing good at?

-Prachi