He peacocks here, he peacocks there, he struts and struts as people stare.
His showiness is all-too-easily-seen, and it reflects where he is going and where he has been.
This bright bird with eyes that stare into your soul, they delve inside without concern for you nor care as they take hold.
They intensify, enveloping you,
Making certain to assess and formulate a plan or two for you.
There is nothing these eyes do not see,
For they view me, they wholly see me.
For, this bird is rather sneaky, he wishes to play a game that is not so pretty,
A game in which he can manipulate you,
Into believing there is more than the two of him and you.
For, his eyes, those eyes, upon his feathers they deceive,
Wonder not whether they are in reality or falsified as can possibly be seen,
Because as he resumes strutting and mesmerising all that can see him,
I wonder to myself where this illusory bird has come from,
And when from my life he will leave.
I do not need the deception in my life,
Of a strutting male as I try to once again make sense of the inner chasms and strife,
As I will know from the past, there’s no reason to feel as though I’m an outcast,
Simply because I am different from this showy, eccentric male.
One day I’ll shine my feathers, the true colours showing through the brown.
It’s not easy sometimes, being overshadowed by another leading the crowd.
© 2019 Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.
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