interloper

the logic had faded

when i felt degraded,

beneath my hollow skin,

i crave a shallow win, and

there are buried glass shards,

and thoughts shuffle like cards;

i had established an

honest platform to vent,

i discovered i can

straighten out what i’ve bent,

i thought that i had found

real purpose in my life,

the interloper’s bound

to create blatant strife,

throughout a six-month ordeal

of feeling like nothing’s real,

and the pitch black darkness,

with the cloud of starkness;

being stripped of what made

you feel an ounce of worth;

the light shifts into shade-

filled, curses of sheer earth;

the crisp reality

of the epiphany

of sharp comprehension

of the true distinction

between lonely and alone;

is far beyond my comfort zone;

my wisdom was jaded

when he infiltrated,

he hated to see me win,

he knew my pride was thin, and

with blatant disregard,

he left my image scarred;

the forceful cynic planned

to further my descent,

to steal all of my land,

hone in on my lament,

and with no one around

he gripped onto that knife,

the interloper’s pound

had an impact so rife;

he tried his best to conceal,

that all he wanted to steal,

was a sense of his hardness;

and chose me as a target;

being stripped of what made

you feel an ounce of worth;

the light shifts into shade-

filled, curses of sheer earth;

but he could guarantee,

he would not get past me,

his jealous pretension,

and vain condescension,

would soon bear my hostile tone,

my words sink deep in each bone,

who could’ve guessed that the

perpetrator would be;

this kid in my city;

who went to school with me;

and that due to society’s

inherent misogyny;

the young boy’s reputation;

despite no litigation;

will always take priority;

that piece of shit narcissist,

who crushed all of my hope;

caused my mental untwist,

pushed me off the tightrope;

despite the constant evidence

of flagrant crime presented;

and the length, and the precedence;

of a young girl, tormented;

the boy who caused the storm,

shifting sunshine to rain;

served me on a platform;

insurmountable pain;

the boy whose clear motive,

was none other than envy;

was clearly emotive,

but lacked morality,

sociopath gaslit,

and refused to show it,

the police buy that shit,

so just he got away,

without a mark or scratch;

just roaming in the day;

while i sit and detach;

being stripped of what made

you feel an ounce of worth;

the light shifts into shade-

filled, curses of sheer earth;

but he could guarantee

of his epiphany

of sharp comprehension

of the true distinction

between knowing you’re unknown,

and

knowing you’re the epigone.

by Zoe Frenchman