Concerned with image.
Hard to tell what decisions
I make for myself.

With every attempt
Neatly placed in a showcase
And shared openly.

Pencil pushing past
Writer's block; rubbing your eyes
'Til they're only bags.

I want to do some
Thing for myself, for only
My own desire to.

Yet still here needing
gratification for my
own satisfaction.

How can you feel proud
Of something that's been seen by
You, and you alone?

Pride stemmed, not from self,
But my need for approval.
To be justified.

So many sorrys.
For things with no offense I
Would apologize.

Considering my
Image. Always picturing
The scene I am in.

Viewing my life from
How it might look with someone
Else's perspective.

And I am amazed
That I could take this mind and
Make it look so good.

But in truth it is
Far frazzled and forgotten.
Ha ha. Tricked them all.