“Keep on holding your head high”,she said with a smirk and a sigh
“i will”, in the knowing I may be ugly not shy
always with conviction of knowing between truth and a lie
“Youre a phony” she belched
a shaky confidence like a laugh close to cry
“And that makes you… a what?” was my queen-check, not even Kasparov could deny
“mistaken again”… her sad answer, so… did she guess or not try?
The real truth is somewhere between her who and her why
it was the day i learned that my game isn’t seen fly
It was the day I decided to sell short, not to buy
And now I look in the mirror smile and say “hi”
she was too young or too ignorant, an’ me too old a fish for her fry
The day I realized theres no shame in goodbye.