Max Muselmann // unsplash

how much of this is a masquerade?

how much of this is a tell tale heart?

does winning really mean that much?

is it so special that walls will crumble?

the watchman stays in the same spot

the passing becomes him and the time a constant

the sidelines stay warm and lived in

he stakes his claim

he settles in and to his throne he’s grateful

he’s distant enough and just close, my friends

to dish out his sizzle and slime

punishing himself, light of lime

his insides, they rot

his outsides are not

anything he can recognize

so he points and he laughs

sure as he can

to make you remember his words

the secret, I know it

this is how he shows it

in treachery vile and poison

a wish and a dream

a night long ago it seems

for the center lead

the ring of the steed

but guts and glory

he never did welcome

the boldness came

and he scared it away

in moments of small

afraid of the fall

distrust of his own self genius

a story I wish

was different than this

but these are the words that flowed…

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