Before my toughest critic, I stand
tall but without height
w a i t i n g
For doubt and fear to fill me up and
Burst!
drained through seams of skin.
But never do I let others see
my carefully constructed walls
Break


Open.
Only do I shatter under the harshest eyes of all,
And with them I bargain and
Destruct!
My swallowed flaws are caught in my throat,
So I will wear them like a shirt
or in fact, they wear me.
And outside, my jacket stays zipped and sturdy,
hesitance still stitched underneath:
Rough on the skin,
Close to the
heart.
Even in times where determined I fly,
she leaves an itch on my back
that I cannot reach.
She is she, but one are we
and surely, my toughest critic is--


Me.