museum exhibit

some days i imagine a better version of myself.

one worthy enough

of being presented on center wall,

maybe even put on display

for the most critical of eyes.

but in the midst of such foggy imagination,

i recall that all things that go up

must come down.

so down i go.

 

it is tiring,

and discouraging,

to be an idealistic personality

in an undesired silhouette.

to be a sculpture

containing deeper fortunes,

yet noticeable rust

and nicked forearm

fit my description.

the only treasure

not sought after.

i am the museum exhibit

no one had to tell onlookers

not to touch.

glass cases and red rope

can be found far from here.

most ticket holder would feel it,

that temptation.

but it is consumed

by indifference,

disgust.

no hyperbole.

 

-l.h.

 

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