Discomfort writhing in my throat

Itch of things that I despise,

Words slip sweetly off my tongue

While envy peels behind my eyes.

x

She who braves me at my game

We who snarl beneath our smiles,

But battleground lies at my door

Weaknesses that I must hide.

x

We who strives for perfect truth

Find our niche fit-in-be-known

To maintain my front, I battle

Only to see that hers has grown.

x

Will I accept inevitable?

Let the sun burn down the sky!

The moon will trek its lonely cycle

And to the earth we stage our lies.

x