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imara Jul 12
i oversaturate everything i love
till they feel like empty husks
of people who used to mean something to me.
the more time i spend
keeping them close at bay,
the more i find myself
worrying that they will tire of me.

the sparks will fizzle out,
the glamour of the mystery
will wear and tear
as the curtain falls to reveal
the only ugly and all too real
parts of myself i have left.
where am i going
when i am growing alone?

must i always run away
to feel like i am worthy-
like i am interesting-
like i am more than the
shiny stories i tell of myself?

if i continue to be this way
will i always find
the path of life
too narrow to allow
for another to walk alongside me?

where will i find myself
if all i am doing is running?
there are times when
i feel as if home is the only place
i ever want to be
but it is also the prison in which
i always feel lesser of myself.

lonely are the hearts that believe
they need to escape
to find themselves
only to come back and realize
they are stuck
with every one of their million faces.
just thoughts that cross my mind on a daily basis. god, i can't believe i'm stuck with me for the rest of my life.
imara Apr 2021
sometimes i wonder
if i am lying to myself.
too often i find
that i am creating
fiction out of the mundane.
perhaps that's the storyteller in me.
but also part of me knows
it's the scared little girl
always afraid of giving
too much away-
a magician
who keeps her cards up her sleeve
too careful to to reveal the trick
until the curtains close,
the audience bows out,
and the theatre is nothing
but an empty husk
of echoes and dead applause.

what you see
is nothing but an illusion
of who i wish i were
but how i wish
it were more than just a
carefully crafted fantasy.
this charade is getting old.
this heart is growing cold.
someday, gravity will catch up
with this fantasy,
and the walls will come tumbling down.
but till then,
i'll keep my story shut,
and repaint this smile
while the world looks
the other way
found this on my notes app from a little while back.
feb 17, 2021
imara Feb 2021
when do people ever feel
like they are the real deal
everyday i'm running round
trying to find my own sound
there are dagger eyes in my face
telling me i'll never be good enough
to take up my own space
maybe one day i'll step out
of the shadows
towards a stage
worth shining a light on
but till then
i'm working in the rafters
trying to collect stories
until they feel like they're worth telling
there's a little saying
you'll never know till you go
you gotta start somewhere
but somewhere always feels
a little further away than i can reach
the things i wanna be
the person i hope to become
is always a mile ahead
help me take the leap
till then i'll always be
scraping my feet
on the road
beneath her shadow
got invited to speak about something i'm really passionate about, but there's this little voice in my head always telling me i'll never be credible enough. it's crazy how much we put ourselves down even when people see you differently. how i wish i could see myself through other people's eyes.
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