(October 22, 2017/8:48-9:39 a.m.)

(Artifice line added 10/29/17 at 5:26 pm)



  • My body of work is bipolar. 
  • As opposite as lunar and solar. 
  • One minute vainglorious and self-aggrandizing. 
  • Then the pendulum swings to self-deprecating without my realizing. 
  • I can’t seem to find middle ground, a place of even footing and balance. 
  • I suppose equilibrium just isn’t one of my talents. 
  • So I’m doomed to forever being off kilter. 
  • Seeing life through a disorienting filter. 
  • The trick of it is not letting other people see. 
  • Putting on a face, hiding the real me. 
  • The outside world thinks I have it all together. 
  • And I’m good at it—I can make them see lace when in reality I’m leather.
  • Or when it’s necessary, the opposite could be true. 
  • Whatever it takes to shift the focus off of me and onto you. 
  • So I continue to play the part of what has come to be expected. 
  • Anything to keep my damaged psyche protected. 
  • Because what happens if when my true self is detected,
  • What I fear most comes to pass and she—that is me—is totally rejected?
  • I’ve done the cost/benefit analysis, and it’s not worth it; that’s a risk I just can’t take. 
  • So though it may be exhausting, I’ll continue being a fake. 
  • Well, fake is such a harsh word as it implies deliberate insincerity. 
  • But that’s not the case at all, it’s just safer sometimes to hide behind temerity. 
  • Because if I show timidity, the world will rip me apart. 
  • That’s why I conceal that me with laughter and brashness, and keep a wall around my heart. 
  • The few times I’ve dropped my guard have taught me that the results just leave me pained. 
  • Wounded to the point of nausea—spiritually, physically and emotionally drained.
  • And yet you’d never know it, and I’ll never let you see. 
  • I’ll always leave a question mark where a period should be. 
  • Don’t take it personal, this is just what I have to do to be able to survive. 
  • It’s the law of self-preservation, and like everyone else, I’m just trying to stay alive. 
  • So don’t get too comfortable with the sad, don’t be certain of the sorrow. 
  • Because besides death and taxes, the other sure thing is that my story could be different tomorrow. 
  • You’ll never know if it’s artifice,
  • Or if you’re really seeing the art of this. 
  • And if per chance you feel that I’ve shown my hand and revealed a vulnerable spot,
  • Don’t forget that I’ve grown so adept at this role, that even I don’t know anymore whether I’m acting or not. 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote a poem a couple of days ago, and when I sent it to a frien, I made the observation to him that my body of work is bipolar. Thus the first line of this piece, and what ensued was the rest of the lines. It took less than an hour to write. I’ll try not to edit this one so that it stays true and raw.

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