Often as a writer I pour over whether what I am writing is something that should command any attention. I reach out for the ethereal words to grasp them from the semi-opaque vapors in my mind that pass for thoughts, trying earnestly to say something significant. It is nearly inexpressible how I often feel that this is an exercise in futility: I can never say it well enough. It will fail, I fear… I believe. I even wrote an untitled poem back in early March that I posted on my personal Instagram (@prramer) that spoke to this feeling of inevitable failure at words.
failure
Overlooked
This is what I feared would happenAnd didn’t want to happenBut did happenI allowed myself to see possibilitiesTo develop feelings and grow attachedBut the possibility was snatchedAnd fate rudely substitutedHeartache for my hopeAnd tears for my happinessI will confessI want something trulyBut truly I do not wantTo hurt to find itI know trying is importantBecause … Read more Overlooked
Maybe Never
In my little garden, I plant
Little, frail seeds in oil black soil
Whose hopes are to grow firm and rich
In fruit and vine
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