And feeling like I complain a lot
I won’t paint a pretty picture
Or mold a masterpiece
Out of poop.
I lost that talent,
And yes it was a talent,
By age three.
And, right now
I miss the artist I was.
Lagging
Posted bysickybeatPosted inIdentity, Life, Words, Language, and ImageryTags:2021, identity under stress., reflection
Published by sickybeat
I am a writer with an extremely active imagination. I love learning answers to questions and what makes everything and everyone tick. I am a "Unique case, medically" if nothing else. I am flawed in my extreme aversion to failure (even when "success" isn't good for me,) but have come a long way in ditching the perfectionist mindset. I like people whose default setting toward others is compassion, an open mind, and honesty View more posts
SickyBeat 