Confidence
When my pleasant dream erodes.
And every heart has turned to stone.
My shout turned whisper is then drowned.
In the aimless, screaming crowd.
Now, I know you say I'm welcome.
But I feel as if I shouldn't stay.
For our gears do turn in contrast.
With no one else but us to blame.
Confidence is not inherent.
Nor as stable as it seems.
It's a treasure for the strong.
A fragile dream-tease for the weak.
poem by Aaron Lynn
Added by Poetry Lover
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