The mind it yells ‘imposter’
Each time I find the time to write
Never telling who I am, only telling who I am not.
Squawking, sulking in my ear
Drives the pen, the words to veer,
Drives the mind to that of Lears,
Into the sullenness of my volition.
Imposter, Imposter - not a syndrome but a title;
The title of my biography, the world’s class joke
The worlds least known, the worlds last hope.
I have a Saviour but I am my own,
Rather, I insist to be my own.
Hypnotized by the shadow, or not a shadow but a void,
A black void, not empty but falling,
Falling deep and a miss, falling, falling to my abyss -
Imposter Void Imposter, write your sweet nothingness,
I pity myself but I go on, Imposter Void Imposter -
Sympathetic, the abyss lends it’s kiss.
Imposter syndrome hitting hard