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Grant B May 2013
Tell me you’re not perfect.
Tell me all the the things you’ve done.
Tell me everything so I can see
how you became what you’ve become.

Tell me all you’re secrets.
Tell me ones you dare not tell.
Tell me all you’re deepest darkest thoughts
how you stumbled, how you fell.

Tell it like it really is.
Not how you thought that it should be.
I’ve lots to tell to you as well.
The truth shall set us free.
Grant B Apr 2013
I've learned my lines.
There’s nothing left to hide behind.
I've learned my lines.

Hands hang heavy,
motionless beside me.
Redundant without paper.
Too polite to hide in pockets,
a safe haven from expectant crowds.

Fear filled eyes
scan the room for friendly faces.
Some small accepting sign to say:
“You're doing OK…”
“You're doing OK…”
Grant B Apr 2013
The door locks from the inside,
and I don’t have the key.
The flaky paint and crumbling walls,
are falling in on me.

Dark curtains mask the windows,
the light bulbs are all blown.
Forgotten dreams and broken smiles,
and I’m here all alone.

I still hear the distant laughter.
In your life I once took part.
And I can’t let go, and I can’t move on,
And I can’t unbreak my heart.
Grant B Apr 2013
She's been sent as a test,
to see how I handle the stress.
That's my guess.
And I've handled her well,
as she seeks to discredit me,
get at me,
push all my buttons.
She pushes and pokes,
and provokes.
But I'm not going to bite,
'cos she's wrong and I'm right.
So I'm playing the long game.
Staying the same,
being me.
Unperturbed by relentless
attacks on my work.
And it's working,
I'm learning,
I'm earning my stripes.
Growing up,
showing up.
Being sure of myself.
Dismissing the thoughts
that seek vengeance.
To stoop to her level.
'Cos I've been there before,
and it didn't work out.
She can shout all she likes,
and I'll never shout back.
'Cos I'm better than that.

— The End —