Do I pick the soapbox, or the cave?
Do I want peace now, or to know my own name?
I have a burning fire in my chest.
There will be absolutely no rest.
Either I shut my mouth, and go inside,
Or I face the fear of a broken pride.
The time is coming when I can no longer stand it,
A life un-lived, a "life," not candid.
To face my fears is to stand naked in the crowd;
I'd have to know my shapes, and present them, proud.
There's something worth saying, inside of me,
There's a risk worth taking, worth the fee.
Shall I admit it in a poem that no one understands?
That seems fitting, a cunning plan!
But seriously though, where do I say it?
Do I just let seeping confessions posit?
Do I make a bold life move, that everybody sees?
Do I secretly transform, and note who recognises me?
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