The core of my being has always tread lightly
yet I walk like a queen
The paradox of it splits me down the middle and leaves jagged scars that drip and scorch along the seams of my pride.
I am often split wide open
Just like you, my vulnerabilities are always treading water.
But perfect posture belies imperfection
And expectations are suffocating
I am bound to disappoint
My flaws are frayed from endless picking, and my fingers bled dry from the task.
So please, do not be fooled by my commanding presence
for I wear beggars clothes