Get over it

Get over it

Get over it

 

I am the hole in my entirety

A doubt in the mass of humanity

 

Each breath I take, a rehearsal

For another crack at dismal

 

I am tension in taught wires

A cough in the orchestra pit

 

All of me spot-lit and disappearing

In simpering pools of shame

 

On some well trodden stage

Flecked with dust and grease paint

 

The motes of haunted fabric

Gauzy in the lights

 

And I wait

For somebody to find me out

 

A specialist of the shadows

A spectre of the show

 

To heckle

And shout my name.

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