english,
Literary: Jenga
Staking the layers in sets of three,
I find the right scheme,
To make it stand without falling.
Just like how I try to put a strong stance,
Despite the detestation to myself that I have within.
Pulling out the blocks one by one,
I get that bizarre feeling in my gut,
That anxiety of when the tower is going to collapse.
Just like the butterflies in my stomach,
When I can sense the moment of my failure.
Putting the block back on top,
Careful as I can be, I make my hand as light as possible,
So that the flimsy tower would not crumble.
Just like how I try to hide from the spotlight,
So that I wouldn’t have to speak up or maybe get into a fight.
Watching others do better than me,
Thinking that I’ve pulled the wrong block,
And I’ve made the game easier for them.
Just like how I always think something is wrong with me,
And how I think that other people live their life with ease.
Waiting for my turn,
I wonder how long could I keep on playing
Before the tower crumbles.
Just like how I think of how long I am going to last,
Before I eventually fall.
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