I have a tendency to limit myself. There are things that I presume are beyond me. Or, believe it or not, sometimes I don't want to draw too much attention to myself, almost as if I'm a star that doesn't want to shine bright. It's a silly flaw. Because my potential goes untapped because of fear. Fear of having eyes on me, judgement. Fear of failure also to a certain extent. Yet time moves, regrets mount. The visionaries either broke free from these restraints or had no awareness of them. Perhaps they had an understanding of a concept that is too slippery for us the faceless multitudes to grasp. You only live once. And this life is like a mist. It's there for a brief period and then it's gone. Knowing this, understanding this, one then has to decide. To be a wallflower or to rage against the dying of the light. That is the question.
Isadora what have you done to me? Why have you done it to me? Was I not fine before you walked in and left my mind in a state of disarray You are a cruel trick, Isa A karmic retribution Why would the gods make me exist adjacent to an ideal version of me? A version leaps and bounds ahead of me Why place a piece of coal next to a diamond If not to punish the coal? Surely your cells contain remnants of the dna of the fallen angels That would explain why you're so aggressively stunning Your beauty breaks done all resistance and says ' I'm here, acknowledge me. Bow before me ' Fisher of men Your nets are bursting You blush when they fawn over you As if it's all new to you Yet you eat their adoration for breakfast, you subsist on it. You're Beyonce and the rest of us are your back up dancers Even as we contort our bodies this way and that We are not perceived It is the undulations of your body that they want to see And it is quite the specimen, your body The sculp...
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