Bearing It

The core of my being has always tread lightly

yet I walk like a queen

The paradox of it splits me down the middle and leaves jagged scars that drip and scorch along the seams of my pride.

I am often split wide open

Just like you, my vulnerabilities are always treading water.

But perfect posture belies imperfection

And expectations are suffocating

I am bound to disappoint

My flaws are frayed from endless picking, and my fingers bled dry from the task.

So please, do not be fooled by my commanding presence

for I wear beggars clothes