The smaller version of you…

It’s a benign ailment that covers you with mediocrity and assumed humbleness, while none of the latter sticks.

The smaller version feels a safer space that doesn’t invite attention, so it rests in the bosoms of an adulterous fetish of being unseen, even when it’s a spectacle that is your scene.

The mirage closes so swiftly that you rarely notice it happening, and yet it happens all the time.

You don’t know its origins any more than its consequences, so you rally behind its beguile to not ask for more.

And as if more is possible in this impossible game, fleeting out of its way to make us smaller, the larger we are.

Such is the dichotomy of being that seals the fate in the grandest of ways, mirroring the most subtle optics with a shady grey that is almost always lost.

In that fear and desire grows the unforeseen, asking to be seen not smaller nor bigger but valued for its rigor.

Until the next ❤️ beat ~.~.~