Oh my macho inadequate friend.
Your confidence overpowers rationality, although it’s pretend.
You’ve always done better, earned bigger, won to no end.
My dear fabrication your stitches are weak.
The light shows clear through.
They unwind as you speak.
You’ve trained more than everyone.
You’re simply top notch.
I can’t bear to listen.
I can’t stand to watch.
It will last for a moment your pyramid of cards.
Beautiful in time, for a second at large.
Then like getting stacked because you played the wrong hand.
They’ll tumble like you, straight down to the ground.
© G.P Williamson 2017