My latest original five-line poem.
imposter syndrome slips on my shadow
with a conundrum of whose shadow is this?
it leaves behind loose tar with each use, like
an old fashioned homicide chalk outline,
but crumpled, shapeless; an unwanted heap.
This one makes me sad and also wonder what where did it come from?
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My mind! Haha, sometimes I just get certain ideas in my head and go from there. In this case, the idea of imposter syndrome.