The insecurities,
keep me secure,
in the position I’ve attained,
in my social circles.

They are open,

but they’re enclosed,
still unshielded.
They never can be
when they mask themselves,
on one’s apparrel.

Known to few,
who distinguish the mask from the true identity.

My social circles are small,
sufficient to provide coverage,
to the insecurities mutating.

I’ ve barely got friends,
but I’ve got the right ones.

By: Huda Azam

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *