Insecurity

It rises within me, like a plague or like vomit One mouth is never enough to slam shut the beast back to its cave Ravenous in cycles repeating itself, though it is something different altogether It is the same old-fashioned, self-conflicting soprano screech of insecurity My features are plain and my eyes are dogged with spots of black They look flaked in moon-dust floating on a further reach of dark silk It is like oil floating on water. Dull and acidic and so awfully pleased to meet you You must understand that this is the canvas and comparisons will be drawn 'Dear Sir or Madam' I slot myself in between, feeling like neither and looking like both When sincerely, I am faithfully and you sit undeniably pristine Taking home the world in a dog-eared armour as I steal home some precious silence Feeling like neither and wanting for both.