A Reflection

I repeat the words through habit like
a childhood prayer that no longer holds meaning;
words spoken for the simple
feel between lips; indoctrinated
into the idea of partnership.

I am lacking;
I must couple.
But what if I am unable to adapt and
it hurts not only me, but her most of all?
But for all my appearance of empathy,
it’s really a reflection of me.

by Erik Shinker


Who are we,

Each day, when we put on our
masks, we decide who we will show
to the world as “us.”
The colleague;
the coworker.
The son;
the Father.
The Mother;
the daughter.

The Golden Child,
living without effort.
by their siblings and cousins,
loathing their self more than
any other could.

The Broken One,
always making mistakes despite
trying their best.
Brushed off
as a
wasted opportunity;
what a pity.

Circumstances can be
tamped down by confidence;
faking until making
a defense against what they
couldn’t control.
Assumptions based on
clothes, appearance,
accent, and vocabulary.
Though we may strive to
empathize, it doesn’t always come

who are we,
Depends who’s asking.

by Erik Shinker