Imposter Syndrome

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I often have days where I forget I'm an artist.
I don't feel like a writer,
I feel like a fraud of a friend.
Times where I'm convinced I'll never get out of bed for the crippling fog will never end.

It sucks all hope that things will mend.
For the voice forces me to stay silent as to not be accused of chasing trends.
When all I'm attempting is to make amends.
Get this gloomy cloud to quit floating around my head.

The belief of being a sham creeps in,
Seeping into my skin.
It starts it's battle deep within;
And if anyone could truly see the extremes they'd probably call it sin.

Cruel and violent these arguments get.
Between mind, body and spirit, left with no safety net.
I myself can't place bet,
For so long I've been this darkness's pet.

It letting me dream, even believe that I can achieve,
Only to deceive.
Held in a negative pink cage
One that continuously nips at my efforts to make center because it truly believes I only belong back stage.

When this companion takes to much from me
I know rest is all I need.
And when I wake, I feel free
But not fully for I know they did not leave.

I can only remind myself I'm human, as it comes back again.
That I'm skin and teeth, not tittles and stipulation.

It's been hard to realize that the one who's been with me from the beginning, who will be till the end.
Has faked me into believing it was a friend.
When all this time, all it's really done is leave me feeling dread.
Figuratively dead.

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