What one can manage
Is never quite enough
To be of no consequence
Is a fate i can sadly profess

When confidence unfolds
It surely dwindles
Beneath the hail of skeptics
The incessant blare of scrutiny
Vicious, unwavering and obscene

In silence I sway
Between serenity and desolation
My mind coldly swept over
By carelessly flung insight

My assured wavering
Tightens my girth
As words stream in
From the chasms of my earlobes

I am subject
To the mad pouring droves
Armed only with their mantra
Of uphold and heed

“Let the adults speak
And seek shelter within your craft
For you are the diminishing
Boy recluse
Bereft of worth,status or valor”