doubts. I couldn't stop doubting myself.

as I stained the words on the paper with my tears, I felt so unsatisfied.

my words felt meaningless. they felt like nothing. they felt boring. they felt not good enough.

and as I clicked "publish", I couldn't help but notice
how sad the words were.

how pain soaked every letter.

guess the words weren't nothing.
the words weren't meaningless.
the words weren't boring.

yet, they were still not good enough.

it was a habit to form pieces of art out of my tears.

thinking that I was healing myself, when really I was on "self destruct" mode.

I thought writing was the one thing I could turn to when the demons were gnawing at my mind.

turns out, my poems were spies undercover, just making me more vulnerable by the second.

so I think.
I over think.
I over over think.

trying to keep my hands from forming stanzas of sorrow.

trying to write about something inspiring.
something heartfelt.

yet I was still on "self destruct" and the failure of my 'happy' writing only led me into the abyss of vulnerability.

I have no where else to run to. No place to call home.

guilt saturated my presence,
as I used to feel no remorse when I clicked the "publish" button.

'cause with every click, I let my demons go attack my soldiers.

and I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, for my words aren't motivating.

I'm sorry, for my words are filled with heartbreak.

I'm sorry, for my words aren't bright.

I'm sorry, for my words aren't impactful as I thought they were.

I hope one day that my words can cause happiness to sing in your ears.

until then, I really don't know

~tatiana