Imposter Syndrome

Standing on a precipice of thought

By Sasha Freemind on Unsplash

For now I am a hero
for me a single rose,
they sing my name
and cut me deep
each word a piercing thorn.

How soon till they arrest me
discover all my flaws,
push me to blame
never the same,
all that I once was torn.

Accomplishments laid tarnished
notoriety my new acclaim,
then sent away
like broken clay
shattered, shaken, worn.

You say I should not worry
That I’m better than I think,
then tell me why —
no word no lie
no peace within is born.