me.
The irony of shrinking to make others feel more comfortable, they disregard you for not being that which they themselves are not.
small tiny little,
I like to not take up space when it is clear that if I lift my head to eye level— I will be a giant.
The brightest in the room.
Crawling into a curl,
maybe others will cheer,
for noticing that I chose not to make a scene.
But when I betray me,
they do not even want me.
Cocky and Entitled,
is it really that bad?
The things that I shield and hide,
the same ones that absolutely come out,
especially when I think I got them under my belt,
even more when I act like they are nothing to share.
The same things that weight more than I can bear to deny.
And no one even expected me, to pretend to be something I’m not.
Sometimes it is their shame,
the reflection shining back,
hitting them in the face.
It is no one’s fault.
That by being just yourself,
by being no act and not masked,
they tend to feel strange—
It is always better to persuade,
by being authentic to one self.
If they must find themselves,
do not attempt to meet them where they cannot meet themselves.
Only by being our true nature, will they have to embrace.
Alone and real,
who every one of us is.
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