text; un: raverobber

[badfeyth]

What was it that you thought you knew?
"Not much," misfortune seemed to bray,
When all came crashing down on you.

You used to shine in every hue;
Your confidence kept fear at bay.
What was it that you thought you knew?

For like a weed, ambition grew;
Temptation drove your steps astray,
When all came crashing down on you.

Could I have hindered what ensued?
Could this have gone another way?
What was it that you thought you knew?

What matter now? At your debut,
On best intentions, panic preyed.
It all came crashing down on you.

And now upon a time or two,
My own reflection seems to say,
"What was it that you thought you knew
When all came crashing down on you?"

It's been a while since I wrote one of these. They say it's a poetry form that's often used for showcasing a level of obsession; from a technical standpoint, it's also a fairly difficult type to write in because of the rigidity of its form. You pretty much have to pick the refrains first and then work out the rest of it around them.

Anyway, it's probably some level of hubris to put something like this out where anyone and everyone can see it, but call it a way of holding myself accountable to something. If it's out there, I can't set it alight and pretend it never existed. For better or for worse, there it is.

I should probably do more of that than I do, putting things out there and damning the hangups. But any bridge built has to start with a single post, right? Or something like that — don't look at me, I'm not an architect.

Comments

[perfectdevil]

I see. Catharsis…

It seems I owe you an apology, ma rousse. I somehow forgot how impossibly brave and inspiring you are. To take a moment like this and make it something to gain strength from is an unimaginable feat. I wouldn’t think it possible, and yet here you are.

But of course, I know you are much too modest to agree, so I will surrender. My main concern is you, and whether or not you are alright.

[badfeyth]

Well. I guess sometimes it's just a question of whether there's any alternative to begin with, isn't it? It happened. Either I can cope or I can't, but neither option changes anything.

...

Do you —

I guess it's sort of the elephant in the room, now. All of that, now that people know it. You must think I'm awfully strange, given everything.