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word vomit

i am the perfect child
the perfect student i
am organized and always
complete my work
it's always far above par
and the others stare at
my test scores in
awe and envy.
.
i am intelligent and composed
though i am haughty and
cold if my heart is gold
no one knows it but there is
a coat of gold spray paint on
top of what's under and that
is good enough to
please the adults.
.
i am fine and i handle everything
that comes my way with ease because
i have to. i flit from pair to pair and
group to group of people that
don't see me and the spray paint
is good enough for them too.
.
and under the coat of gold is a
thin sheet of cold steel or
tin foil, but they can't tell the difference anyway
it might as well be a wall of iron
three feet thick
people stay away but i am fine and
strong invincible alone
cold untouchable.
.
i like it better like this
no one can see me so
i can remain on my pedestal
in my paper crown
and faux fur cape
.
i've a warm front and a cold front and people
love to guess which one's the façade but fail
to notice the word 'front' in both
and don't you know fronts are temporary
.
.
.
to come second is to fall short
and to fall short is to break
hit it until it breaks, you say?
it broke
.
.
.
i am the perfect child
cerebral in nature but talented
physically and mentally
as far as others can see I am
emotionally underdeveloped
but to feel is to fear
and to fear is to be paralyzed
.
the flaws of others are obvious and deplorable
i point it out whenever i can
i can't help it
they call it confidence, arrogance, ego
but they are deceived by cheap shimmer and glitter
as i knew they would be
as they should be
.
as far as they know my crown is real
and it is as surely on my head as my head is
on my shoulders but in truth
i'm losing both
.
they have no way of knowing that it is not
superiority but fear of inferiority
that keeps my crown taped on my head
and my cape wrapped around my shoulders
like a few mere stitches trying to keep a world from
falling apart
.
because i will only ever fall apart
because i will never be enough
i will never be good enough but
i can't let them know that because
i must not falter i must not fall
but it's too late
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
i am sick and it cannot
be cured with a few pills or
a good night's rest or a warm cup
of soup but with the downing of
the whole bottle or something much
more burning than soup or a simple
bullet to the brain.




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