it’s so funny how i hate the quiet but…
no coach to guide me
an absence of fans cheering from the sidelines
i’ve always swung my way out of the corner
on my own
it’s so funny that despite i can’t stand that sound…
your ego
all alone
three times the weight of my own
disguised in a mask
of crocodile tears
subtle jeers
abstract fears
a beast unwilling to face anyone outside the final zone
can it be?
i’ve settled myself in the pocket of woe
deeply entrenched in a staring contest
with the fear inside
you seem to call yourself
but oh what is this?
it appears i see
but a reflection of me
how harrowing it is to show
that the scariest part of you is the one i seem to know
Category: Poetry
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