Monument To Myself
I don’t pose for pictures
I pose for history books I assume they’ll write about me one day
Every tiny win in my week becomes a saga in my head
an epic where I single-handedly save the day
I rephrase conversations after the fact so I always sound sharper
colder, more in control
Even my memories are edited tapes where I cut out every moment that made me look small.
You tell a story about something good you did and I have to top it
twist it
raise the stakes till it circles back to my glory
I can’t just listen; every time you shine
it feels like someone smudged my mural
so I repaint the whole story
If someone compliments you, I laugh too loudly
remind them how I did it first, how you learned from me
I am so terrified of disappearing I turn every room into a shrine to my own legacy.
I am not satisfied being loved
I need worship or I feel sick
If the world isn’t clapping, I think I don’t exist.
I’m a monument to myself
built out of ego and stolen praise and half-true claims
Every brick a moment I hijacked
every plaque inscribed with quietly edited scripts
If pride is a sin, then I’m a cathedral of the shit
tower so high I can’t see ground from this shelf
I don’t even know who I am anymore
Just this monument to myself.
You catch me twisting things, call me out
say I turned your victory into my anecdote again
I roll my eyes, accuse you of being sensitive
ask why you’re keeping score, call you a bad friend
Underneath the defense
there’s a kid screaming “notice me, don’t leave
don’t let me fade
” But I buried that kid under layers of swagger and this constant need to get paid.
Sometimes at night, when no one is watching
I stare at the ceiling and realize I don’t have real stories to tell
Only trailers for a film where I play every hero
every author, every voice wishing me well
All my connections feel like mirrors hired to reflect a certain angle of my face
And I wonder if anyone would visit this monument If they ever saw the base.
I’m a monument to myself
built out of ego and stolen praise and half-true claims
Every brick a moment I hijacked
every plaque inscribed with quietly edited scripts
If pride is a sin, then I’m a cathedral of the shit
tower so high I can’t see ground from this shelf
I don’t even know who I am anymore
Just this monument to myself.
One day the wind will knock a stone loose
the whole thing will crack
and my legend will slide into dirt with everything else
Till then, I keep polishing the same statue
Too scared to live Without my self.