My Inner Writer and the Cure to Fear

I have awakened the writer in me once more,

For some reason is something that comes and goes.

I think is my imposter syndrome or self-doubt,

Bullies him into a corner and shuts him down.

Lately, my fear of ridicule has been minimized.

-What was the medicine for this pantomime?

A funny discovery. The cure applies to them all

-All of the fears one magic pill, for real?

Yes! That is what it looks like, it is refreshing,

For the first time, the loudest voice is not yelling:

“Stop! Stop! Think about How this could end badly”

But now it feels like I was blessed for the crusade broadly.

-So what’s the magic? What is the secret to be shared?

It is quite simple, you need to learn to unlearn.

-How does that work? What does it mean, simply?

In the end, the truth filters through the man freely

-So what is that truth you are talking then?

It’s not about me, it’s about them.

If I think about me, my lifetime companions show up

Because it’s healthy and that is their job.

But when I think about them,

The many that need so much help.

I don’t see my shortcomings as my prerogative,

They are necessary considering the alternative.

People in need don’t need a perfect man,

They need care and a helping hand.

They don’t care how better it could have done,

They care you did it and showed up.

Now I don’t think about my liabilities,

Others see assets in my abilities.

Now I don’t pay attention to the lack,

As I always know I will find the path.

-Indeed, it sounds like you found your magic pill,

Yeah, I’m quite happy and most of the time chill.

I don’t put crazy amounts of pressure on myself,

I just focus on becoming better every day.

By |2024-02-10T20:25:26-05:00February 9, 2024|Categories: Poem|Tags: , , , |
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