Unknown

This is not my poem. It belongs to a person I met just once, and never again. She let me have one of her poems that she had written, and after I had read it, I was touched. These are her words.

Sitting with knees drawn

and words muddled

mind caught

   - wretched between

2 seconds in the past +

2 seconds in the future.

Maybe if I stay still

for long enough, the

smokey gauze will clear.

If doing good

   and being good

were within the same 

realm

+ held the same 

consequence

But unfair as it is, the

benefits are there for

for those who choose to reap - 

not those who hesitate;

unsure; doubt their 

worth.

How far can encouragement

take you.

And how much the more

is pure, raw, skill - talent - 

luck - 

I've tasted luck. Bittersweet

A slight gloss of shame,

for being able to deceive

(for being able to project)

They call it the Imposter

Syndrome

I need a plan

   I need a structure

   Something I'm going to build.

They say pacing is important

(I CAN'T FALL BEHIND) 

Poem written by C.Y.