You can reawaken the fear,
Reawaken the wounds,
Peel back the scar tissue;
It is all still there,
And it will never truly fade,
So I might as well embrace it-
I can throw my handmade armor away,
For the scars are as real and as full-proof
As armor gets,
And my voice
Becomes a sharper sword every day-
I grew up too afraid
To pull it from its belt,
But now it’s your turn for fear
Because this sword is always in hand
I will always have words
Sitting on the edge of my tongue,
Waiting for the prestine moment;
I have become your greed-
Trying to impress my lost distanced soul
Has proven successful
To others, I am nothing,
But to my lost past, I am Prestige


3 thoughts on “Prestige

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