By Andrew Ballard

My inquisitor

is ill-equipped

to smile

with malice

for a heart


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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