Forgive me for this is the height of my selfishness, but I do not believe you.
I know of my fear, the high walls I have constructed out of will and anxiety.
Fortifications and towers of this mental stone, unending and reinforced.
You are a foreigner to these hilled lands, your weapons of words all falter and fail.
The gates won’t open to no crocodile tears; and once I’m gone, there shall be no lands left to conquer.
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 12:30 AM UTC
Forgive me for this is the height of my selfishness, but I do not believe you.
I know of my fear, the high walls I have constructed out of will and anxiety.
Fortifications and towers of this mental stone, unending and reinforced.
You are a foreigner to these hilled lands, your weapons of words all falter and fail.
The gates won’t open to no crocodile tears; and once I’m gone, there shall be no lands left to conquer.
I wrote this over some mixed emotions about some friends of mine. Been in a rough patch recently and these people have known me for less than a year, so some of their words feel hollow.
