Found Out ~ #Poetics @dVersePoets

Held to standards created in my own mind,
never enforced or planted by others...
all me.
Carving out an existence based on childhood fears.
Eight year old me, only girl on the team,
but man...I had something to prove.
What was I thinking?

Still, the spotlight is magnetic. I must get them talking.
I don't care what they think...
tough talk, denial
It's Little Abner meets Conrad Birdie
and the steps to the center stage
are marked in bullshit
Who am I hoping to please?

Shaved heads and permanent ink
Sure you don't care what they think?
Caught up in trying to please, my head is messed
On the outside...I fight tooth and nail
On the inside...well, who can see the inside?
So what does it matter?

Existing in a constant game of blame
Armor like titanium
so strong
even my own common sense cannot pierce it
fifteen years in a fog of my own making
I point fingers
I shift positions
I dye my hair
Now that it's grown back.

I squeeze myself to fit into what is expected
Silk blouses and three inch heels
Proper talk, business lunch, bull and the bears
and still the armour stays strong
I've no clue that inside I'm dying.

Ten years later...it might be too hard to come back
How long do you live a lie
before it becomes your truth.
The real me is still here somewhere
The lie has faith in that
I sense the fear that comes with being found out

Poser, Painter, Candlestick maker
the truth is always revealed
in the words.

It's Stuart (AKA @StuMcP) taking over the dVerse stage this afternoon for Poetics...rumor has it we might be delving into some fearful waters...and really, what is to be feared more than our real selves...my little lady is slowly working her way back to the light...fair warning!

Comments

Brian Miller said…
outside the armor is strong while we die inside....that resonates tash....i have been there...i rotted for quite a few years so i would not get hurt again...and nearly killed myself in the process...the steps to the center stage
are marked in bullshit...ha, truth in that...and many lose themselves slipping in it while they try to climb...
Anonymous said…
you know- i get this. Years spent people pleasing,years spent talking the bullshit business talk...and that fear of being found out...its almost a fear of being true to yourself....im not sure how many people are able to completely....but i know the ones that do get remembered....but...i think the fact that we are AWARE of this is good enough sometimes...because the bullshit machine cant easily be escaped...an all it is is a game....as long as we never lose this...we still have a soul
Unknown said…
Powerful! You narrate what is everyone's essential truth: We are all in a process of refinement, finding our true selves, becoming our own intended.
Anonymous said…
How long do you live a lie, before it becomes your truth? Well that for me was the killer question at the crux of this edgy poem Tash. Fantastic work poet, so glad to be back here reading you again.
Anonymous said…
It's true isn't it? We can never escape our true selves, no matter how we try to morph into what we think the world at large would want us to be. And that's indeed a scary thing to accept - who we are and that who we are is ok.
henry said…
Ouch, you write with truth so bare. I feel it. Very effective write. I never doubt what you are saying is what you are saying. Much enjoyed.
Susan Daniels said…
Wow, Tash--How long do you live a lie
before it becomes your truth.
The real me is still here somewhere
The lie has faith in that
I sense the fear that comes with being found out

God, this is so true, and so real.
Susan said…
"It's Little Abner meets Conrad Birdie
and the steps to the center stage
are marked in bullshit
Who am I hoping to please?"

Brilliant! You've captured the fear right down to its panicky pace and tone-and the sick desire to please (on the reverse of the coin which is also the wisdom to play the game and survive). But the armor is not empty, nor is the lie a doom. I know this from being in the same pattern with various bottoming out points-- At 25, for only one example, after divorce, I thanked God for discovering freedom and feminism before I was too old to enjoy them. I had no idea that they had to be practiced through steps after step of bottoming out. But the glass was always filling, not emptying.
Mary said…
Gut level writing here. How often we do what is expected for a while before it becomes too much, and eventually we come to the realization that it is most important to be ourselves. "How long do you live a lie before it becomes your truth?" A thought-provoking question for sure.
Laurie Kolp said…
As you know from the other night, I face the same fears. We can walk through them together, girlfriend.
Other Mary said…
Wow, great write Natasha. I think that speaks to a lot of people. Love your closing lines:
"Poser, Painter, Candlestick maker
the truth is always revealed
in the words."
marousia said…
Strong writing - this resonates! You have hit on something most important here - it is so easy to lose ourselves trying to live up to the expectations we set for ourselves
Anonymous said…
... in a way a lot of us are posers... The fear of being found out! Wow, it never really clicked till now!...
Thanks for this!
Glenn Buttkus said…
that little lady within shows up on a regular basis in your poetry, perhaps you muse cheerleader; liked this piece a lot, gentle chiding, introspection personified.
Kathy Reed said…
I enjoyed reading this...and the last line is the clincher for me...the entire piece is riveting.
Susie Clevenger said…
I have that demon of not measuring up..I am everyone else's biggest cheerleader, but at times I can't even get out a weak, "good girl" for myself. Keep going Natasha...You have lots to shout about...let me give you a "hell yeah!"
"How long do you live a lie
before it becomes your truth"

so much of this really resonates, Natasha. your words have the ring of truth to them. powerful write!

my childhood fears formed a large part of my adult self, but whatcha gonna do? {smile}

Sabio Lantz said…
I am convinced that there is no "true self". Understanding this, depending how it is taken, can be liberating or depressing -- I guess it depends if you like the present one.
Wolfsrosebud said…
Sweet write.... so true, all of it, and would be every think of it as a fear?
Anonymous said…
yes, the fear of ourselves and more, the fear of others figuring out who we really are
Jenny Herner said…
Love this. And the ending is wonderful: Poser, Painter, Candlestick maker!
Robbie Pruitt said…
Thank you for this vulnerability. . .
I'm a new visitor here Natasha. I love this poem and I love your blog!

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