Against the odds,
here I am.
Still standing,
still breathing,
relishing the moment.
Rumours of my fall,
it seems,
were prematurely chorused -
unfounded malice
spun
from the thread of Judgement.

Irony runs rings around you now -
lapping your conceit,
it smirks and waves.
The stench of downfall
fills the air
as I sit on the sidelines
with companionable Dignity.

No self-fulfilling prophecy, I;
patient silence is my virtue.