II. Yuugure
Fall from Grace
Spring 2009, age 19
Perched upon glory, ambition, dreams;
A singular spirit upon which jealousy feeds,
Though never shaken by slyly-done deeds,
Knows shadows prey upon fraying seams.
Like candles, starving, devouring all,
Traces of innocence fast repose;
Losing hope - losing life - and thus expose
The whirlwinds of omens which her befall.
With naught but a vicious, glittering hate
To comfort these tattered racking cries,
Thus like the swan who cannot fly,
Graceful she falls from her high estate.
About the Poem: Spring of freshman year was rough, to say the least. At its heart, this is a poem about the gnawing imposter syndrome brewing under my steely exterior. The feeling that people were snickering at me behind my back, waiting for me to fail. The feeling that I had bitten off more than I could chew, that the more I pretended I was ambitious and glorious, the further I would eventually fall. Even reading this poem now, in 2021, gives me an ominious sense of dread.
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