style over substance, flair over focus,
such superficiality can appear so profound.
i craft castles from futile foundations.
it's all for the aesthetic, none for the authenticity.
as i revise my compositions
i am appalled by my actions.
i string words on a wire, i order them meticulously to create an empty sophistication.
i manipulate my audience to mistake inability for intellect, and sometimes it works.
but the high of false intelligence doesn't last long.
my confidence plunges into contrition on receiving criticism when i sought validation.
i'm aware that i'm pretentious.
numbers beginning with nines are needles which inject narcissism into my veins.
because i understand that once the streamers have sunken,
once the frills have fallen,
once i return home and remove that rehearsed smile,
i don't know who i truly am.
i mask inferiority and uncertainty with easy embellishment
and it takes no effort at all.
