Picture flawed

Three times three sometimes equals 4
For 9 is a crowd and I am willing to close the door
If you allow me to also close my mouth
Before my fear of crowds rushes out

And I am sweating over the wrong words I said
The things I did not do and the things I did not get
I am shy in public and I fear those times
Where all eyes are upon me as I mutter and decline

To talk about my problems or my issues with real life
There was once a whole other person to which I strifed
To be but I am okay with me now
As long as you don't force me to talk my way out

People say they don't see the dark side of my fears
But when I try to explain it, they don't want to hear
I keep my inside underneath a pile of stones
And when I am with others it still feels like I am alone

So when I babble, and I ramble, I don't mind if you let me know
That every yes might eventually turn into a no
And that no is not the picture of who I am to others
I'm a mother, maybe I'm a mother