Now and then, I try this theme, and that theme and something else and nothing will come together. Then, the doubt creeps in and I start to question whether or not I’m good enough at this. Is it even worth doing? Does anyone care? Do I care? So today I decided: If you can’t beat your inner demons… put the bastards to work.

Work Demon, Work!

My fingers fumble blindly ‘cross,

The keyboard on their quest.

To link some words, to build a verse,

From chaos, meaning wrest.

There is no hope, that’s long forgot,

Yet doggedly pursue.

With single-minded stubborness,

This simple rhyme I’m due.

I do not write to seek renown,

Ne’er one to grasp at fame.

I’ve no illusion anyone,

Will long recall my name.

The only one I seek to prove,

My skill to is just me.

Yet even I, a skeptic still,

For no skill do I see.

Yet still I write and strive to find,

Some worth within my dross,

A deeper meaning to convey,

To somehow get across.

So bear with me, this phase shall pass,

As night must pass to day.

This self-doubt and mistrust will fade,

And I once more will play.

With pleasant scenes and lighter words,

With confidence and verve.

Until when next, my fear steps up,

And pitches me a curve.

Cheers, Winston