he is always seen

he is always seen

by me

not for the wrong thing

he thinks that i don't see

he says

but i hear his speech, i'm

watching which walk he strides

keeping an eye

which trope he marches in time to

because it isn't mine

he wants it to be

a trophy

but he is always seen

not always for the wrong thing.

but who am i to say

what is right if it is not mine.

it sounds cliche

but if the mold fits,

i would break it.

worst foot forward;

leaning into the weakness.

but he is always seen

for the wrong thing,

but not how he's wronged me.

i don't like how it feels,

stuck on interrupted

spinning limited definitions.

loathing the tries of his,

to crush me under what he fears,

also thanking the collateral luck

for pushing me through them:

forced coping,

therapeutically.

not for feint hearts.

he is always seen

for the wrong thing.

he is always seen

as i am,

and he for me.

nobody sees

the life he takes from me,

my personal emotional eclipse,

a person under his personality.

souls are overcast,

socially.

i hide

because i don't want to be

always seen;

no time for me.

i shy from his light

because he is always seen

for every other wrong thing

intellectual identity thief