Who Am I (alliteration)

Am I perhaps that precious parcel of person we people pass in.

Maybe that vividly vile, victimtious being of volatile vulnerability.

That cautious coward always consciously counting captures, while you yourself are "court" behind your self righteous cautious-ness.

That simple silent soul, solemnly sinking sadness with several sedatives.

That bashful being battering to be or not to be: birth by bad, belched by broads or branded by blood.

That innocent idiot, ill but illustratively impressive, idiotic but inseparable with his innocence.

That loving lunatic led by lucrative liabilities. Limited less than the lonesome lover.

Who Am I? "Definitely not one of these.
These alliterations altered according to assumption and awkwardly assigned.

If I were to be categorized by alliteration, I'd "R"...

That realistic rebel relentlessly reading rapture.
Religious relations renting room in my rendered soul.
Repeating right, running rolling till my rest restores in fathers realm.
Repulsive reason wreaked my rhythm so redirected redemption rests I'm fathers Palm.