Outside, to them, you are calm.
You are a boat sailing into the sunset,
And nothing can touch you.
Nonchalance, held close to your chest, enviable.
They don’t have to know, will never know,
Just how fake it all is.
To them, you laugh at the idea of fear.
Be afraid of this? This?
Fear is for cowards,
And it cannot touch you.
But it’s all a mask, a big lie that you tell yourself, and them.
As you play your cards close to your chest.
If you make yourself look big enough,
Will they accept you as their equal?
Will they believe in your strength?
Better yet, if they believe it, will you be able to believe it too?
A boat on the water, yes,
But it’s storming outside and you’re barely keeping afloat.
The only thing to tell yourself is that the fear can wait.
You can release the fear later,
When you’re out of view of the crowds.