His body
Is writhing
With ticks of low self-esteem.
Fake it 'til you make it
Is what they say will break it
But they don't see what goes on up there
His mind rots like a dog given no care
His insecurities lock him up there,
They've trained him so well
They've drained his old well
So he remains a "good boy"
But receives no sympathy
From parched tongue out-sticking
As he endures droughts of confident mental drops
Which is the only thing that trumps
Shock therapy and esteem-digesting treats treatment
Since his scarring Self-doubt's establishment.
