Concessions

on a quest to grow
we can let ourselves go.
hands dealt in less than ideals
our tenure as collected dust
liable for the bad tattoos and wounds
we regret to reveal.
our scarred star-bellies
mangled in humanity;
martyrs of misanthropy
banished to solitude or shame
for attending the masquerade faceless.
concession obsession in
inevitable sacrifice paralyzes.
so make them deliberately,
and take your seat regardless.

extended prose

everyone on their quest to grow up must let a piece of themselves go. everyone has an ugly underbelly somewhere, as much as everyone tries to hide it. mine was my health, then became my grades, and my relationships have been less than stellar throughout. but if sacrifices are inevitable, make them deliberately.