Engouffrée sous mes draps
Je ne rêve même pas.

Les faits sont ils; bien présents
Il en aura fallu du temps.

Et le coeur battant,
Je médite le néant.

C’est parce que, dès lors que je touche une note,
J’ai l’impression qu’elle sonne faux.

Parce que je me déteste au moment où je rate un panier,
Un saut d’obstacle,
Un verbe irrégulier.

Against my will, I’ve acquired this longing.
I’ve mastered the art of fault-picking,
I excel at depreciating.

Still, urgently seeking something diminishing
Yet secretly yearning:
To combat flaws, those I’m dissecting.

For some sort of force to pull me?
Up to standards I don’t fulfil -
Down from aching self-worth, still.

And just like my dad,
I mask my sad.

Mutually we intellectualise our wounds,
Surely the rest turns to oblivion.

I’ve internalised invisibility,
Learned to distrust my own adequacy.

Sometime after shedding acquired skin,
I started to scream;
Craving to feel seen eventually gets boring.

Designing for someone else - I still felt;
Then I fell.

Into a shroud of contradiction,
I refused to flatten expectations -
All the while muting conformation.