“the internal dirtiness felt by being a spy main in team fortress 2”

A Flicker in the Shadows, Cloaked and Thin

Through corridors of Dustbowl dusk I creep,  
A flicker in the corner—barely seen.  
Disguise, deceit: my mask is never sleep;  
This itchy suit, my skinless second skin.

My knife, a thirsting whisper at my palm,  
Is silent in its promise—gleaming cold—  
While hearts throb under uniforms, so calm,  
Unknowing I am lies that will unfold.

The sapper’s hush, the sabotage, the grin—  
They rib me cruelly when the round is won.  
I watch blue trust unravel, threadless, thin,  
And bits of me dissolve when all is done.

To cower where the honest would attack,  
To prey unseen and vanish in defeat—  
Does taint drip in my blood, smear on my back,  
When cloak’s retreat and mask can’t make me neat?

In chat, the shouts—"Backstab!," "Spy is near!"—  
Their anger sharp, their suspicion raw and bright.  
I loathe my own sly smile, my echoing leer—  
A villain in the dark, both wrong and right.

But oh, to see the victory’s sly art!  
The sneaking pride, the dirty work well done.  
Yet still, I sweep the footprints from my heart—  
The shadow never cleanses in the sun.

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