Into the Trial Rooms

I’m stretched, twisted, split into different versions of me, from one face to another in a crowd, during each interaction with each person, all simultaneously, zapping between different personalities I have to embody, different vibes I have to maintain- a chiaroscuro within a person.
All at once, always on my toes, there’s little of mine, truly mine that I can show, dare to reveal.
Still they will judge, still things will go wrong in the wee hours of the night, in a second of unguard, it will drop, the face you wear and they will know.
These conversations keep me from sleeping, replay in my mind, a constant, endless loop of sleepless mortification, regret and shame, having failed each day, to belong.

Artist: @Effenemea

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