So Simple

I am ashamed sometimes of what I am:
I know my follies better than you do,
And so I know my goodness is a sham,
As is whatever's left of my virtue.
Therefore I worry there are very few
Reasons why you ought to be with me;
Because I think that if you only knew
The truth behind it all, you'd simply flee.
I'm so aware of what I ought to be
And I how I deviate from that ideal;
There are so many blemishes I see
In my own soul, and I know that they're real.
But then I recollect you know my errors
And still love me, and that quenches my terrors.