Fraud is who I feel I am – I am what’s felt to be a fraud
Thee fraud
A fraud within my own body… my mind – all through and through – betwixt the lungs seething in the bounds of explosion as I talk
Fraud is who I feel I am – I am what’s felt to be a fraud
As I wake up…
Run- like a bull seeing red… run headfirst to freedom
– heart pouncing faster than the speed of my legs… up up beats that hit in ecstacy toward the brain… these endorphins only last momentarily – mind easing away from myself, my thoughts… me- my own worst enemy
Fraud is who I feel I am – I am what’s felt to be a fraud
Thee fraud
– a counterfeit… more deceiving than fake money… rich in sight and cheaper than a dolla bill. I can bounce back better and faster than a fake cheque… cross all tees… where do I belong?
Fraud is who I feel I am – I am what’s felt to be a fraud
A fraud buried between the bossom above the guts of hell firing a deep thought of self doubt… self doubts
Me… my own worst enemy… thee imposter
There’s a part of me… my fears that someone will find out… find out that I’m not equipped for such roles that feed towards the palette
Arrested in my own anxiety
Anxious fears blurring all senses and sight
Cookies, Coffee & Poetry 