Bundled up in the cloak of

obscurity,

Trying to hide behind anonymity,

My anxious self wallows in doubt,

What’s uglier, my face or soul?

What’s prettier, my fury or

self-loathe?

Brittle is my confidence that once

soared with pride,

If it shatters apart, will I be able to

gather it’s broken pieces?

Or will it vanish into thin air to the

point of no return?

Accusatory fingers pointed from

all around,

“Can’t do one thing right,” they say

Shall I tell them I’ve accepted my

fate

Or cry in a corner muffling my sobs?

Drowning in miseries was a part of

my plan,

Loving myself clearly wasn’t,

Yet I think of discarding the former

and choosing the latter.

Laughing every time I want to cry

Not only shining like the stars in

the night sky

But also becoming a moon for a

weeping child.

Embracing my flaws, burying my

sorrows,

Putting pessimism to sleep,

waking up with optimism

tomorrow,

Smiling past all those invalid

accusations,

Trusting myself more than any

random person.

Rebuilding the

concrete house of my

dreams

With faith, self-love,

confidence as

permanent residents.