What Do You See?

Pressing to my memory like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds, a single simple question (that given the opportunity one such as) I would ask each and every one of thee, "Though I have often been quite consistently conflicted, and a source of constant contradiction, more competent and confident with written words than spoken conversation; one who talks too much (or not enough, depending on whom you ask) about trivial affairs and pivotal pursuits. What is it that thou seem'st to see that causes thou to turn'st and flee; wouldst thou insist upon having me continuously searching within the wound where naught remains but bitterness and pain, as well as sorrow/rage at being left behind to suffer for every previous decision?"
'Tis an answer (one which I fear that) I shall never know and even though it is extremely strange...it changes not my attitude, nor what I/those like myself might think of you (much less what we would ever do); and yet it has become, in many more ways than one, unbearable, to accept that every action should be suspected of eerie motives, odd intent, when nothing of the sort is meant. Furthermore, at present paying penance every day for never knowing what to do or say. Still, some of the words, which spill out anyway, like a playlist stuck/set on repeat that sputters, stutters, every time it tries to read between the lines with awkward effort.
In truth, been burnt, been hurt too many times, too terrified these days to even try...
(So lie instead and with every impulse every breath, ignore/deny part of yourself. Look but don't touch, don't even move [your lips without approval], to speak kind words or compliments. Have you comments/questions about attempting sincere gestures? They're almost all but absurd, unheard of in this day and age; unnecessarily estranged yet regarded with distrust/disdain)
Apparently just opposite to what thou justly seem'st to most others perceptions/minds.
Great offense and exception taken at being characterized a damned saint, an honorable villain, (when never have I claimed perfection); whose emotions, diminished by the damage being dealt, remain locked within an iron shell, along with any aspiration or ambition, lest their frail, feeble composition should crumble or become undone by random acts of volition. Nonetheless, struggling to exhibit and exemplify, a quality oft-much maligned, which has declined (in use, value, and) within the public eye; while attempting to disengage/dispense with this persistent plague of diffidence. clearly lacking common sense, since every last line of self-defense involves deprecation & insouciance.
Personal naivete aside, none that ever walk beside, with derision in their eyes, will ever know the difference/distinction between Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. nor the restrictions, by which I abide. A dozen different demons, reasons for (and methods to) the madness, even though I have yet to douse these flames of discrimination/defamation; my desires/drives remain the same, to put an end to these guilts, regrets and secret shames, the fucking games (once and for all) without ever laying claim to royalty or fame. loyal only to the few whom have framed the fabric of my soul, fought to keep me sane and whole; offering consolation in times of need, yet never seeking to control/mislead the remnants of my private creed.