Shadows
By Andrew Ballard
My inquisitor
is ill-equipped
to smile
with malice
for a heart
programed
to trip me
quietly whispering
as I sleep
of my downfall
known to me
as self-doubt
flogging my ability
to step out
from the shadows
of my uncertainty
with new gifts found
I’m drawing it out
and writing it off
self hope
has a smile
and I’m
going to cope.

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