Small Boy Fear

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I stand here and watch as you destroy your world for no good reason.

A caustic cackle splinters the hopeless pause before you launch your fist into the door.

 

You don’t want this deep down but it is all that you know and it keeps you safe.

Ensnared by fear. Diminished by shame. Burdened by doubt.

 

You resist the unclipping of your wings, as that would lead you to discoveries about yourself

That might bust the myths you thirstily imbibe about who you really are.

For then you would realise that your own reality has been a lie:

A well crafted work of elaborate self-deceit.

 

As I shine my light towards you

Your demons laugh in my face

And that makes my light burn brighter and stronger.

 

But like a startled animal

You run back underground,

Hiding once more from the truth of yourself

And the pain of being loved.

 

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2019 

Packages

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We go around

in neatly folded packages.

Work-shaped, mall-shaped, party-shaped.

Sufficiently malleable to fit into each slot.

Still wrapped when we get home.

(Often tightly).

 

Tightly taped and parent-shaped for the kids.

Ribbon-tied and bug eyed for the spouse.

Always gifted

But never unwrapped.

 

What if one string were slowly pulled from the top

To reveal what was inside?

‘No!’ we protest,

‘For that would destroy the package:

the multi-version of me that is my

identity’.

 

(The ‘i’ in identity

is with a little ‘i’

for the little eye

does not want to have

the inner view).

 

Pull the string.

Because what you really are

is both inside and outside

of the parcel anyway.

 

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2018