Wrong Card at the Game
The problem with hiding yourself,
is that every interaction feels like a game of cards
where you don’t know how much you’re willing to lose
in order to win.
Growing up learning to hide pieces,
Means getting insanely good at bluffing,
It means reading others too much,
Instinctively looking for their ticks and tells,
Trying to figure out if the outcome will be well.
It means learning statistics like the back of your hand,
it means living with an inexplicable feeling
that sits heavy on your chest,
As though you were somehow cheating for simply being.
And I have been losing my mind,
Wearing myself thin,
Trying to see how much pieces I should show,
How much I should let out for you to know.
Because I am a wild UNO card
Somehow stuck in a game of poker,
And I’ve grown up bluffing my way through games,
Where my main goal is to survive instead of to win.
So please excuse the lag in my responses,
Pardon the way my hands sometimes shake,
For I’ve just been reading you closely,
Trying to figure out my chances and stakes,
To find the exact percent of acceptance;
The probability to fit in.
