Constructive Criticism

I've got this pressure in my chest,
A little beast that they call pride,
Rearing it's grotesque head,
Roaring just to prove he can,
All my insecurities dragging in tow,
On these chains I try to hide in my back pocket,
At times the weight drops me to my knees,
Small words rolling up my sleeves,
Bloodying my knuckles as my brain pleads,
"Please, just grow a thicker skin!"