Good

-If I was a good writer wouldn't I already be famous?
-If I was a good writer wouldn't people ask to read what I write?
-If I was a good writer wouldn't I have all A's?
-If I was a good writer wouldn't sending in my work be easier
-Wouldn't I fear rejection less?
-If I was a good writer wouldn't I have a clue?

Not Good

-I want to write regardless

Brought to the surface by ambitious hands,
Soft and full of potential.
Potential to be, perhaps to change lives and looks from stuffy professors pretending to enjoy the intelligent atmosphere.
Wedged into a perfect square block of choice and expression.

The soft hands of change embracing the flexible surface of a grade or an emotional outlet.
Pulling or smoothing surfaces
Adding and subtracting noses and ears like a plastic surgeon working on his greatest celebrity success.
Who knows?

A base,
A beginning figure for the mother Mary or baby Jesus,
Perhaps a David.
Details etched into skin.
Icing, sprinkles, candles said to be the finishing touches,
The exciting part the child looks forward to adoring and blowing out in the center of the room,
While the important people watch and film.
Making memories and plans.
Into the kiln to finalize the decisions and silence the questions that scratch at the door of the artist day and night until he can put them to bed.
Hot and hardened like a man at a ******* aching to end and forget the days of innocence.

Times up.

Removed from the heat and placed on a shelf awaiting a hand to paint a beautiful lie on it.
Colors to attract that rebel at the back of the class and perhaps comfort his lonely ensemble for even a moment.
Back to the kiln to finalize the personality developed over time by one who wishes to be noticed.

The moment has finally dawned,
Life feels final and successful.
Full-filling the goals set by one.
Exciting,
The air caresses smooth and painted skin,
As this idol of purity and stillness is transported from truck to pedestal,
Surrounded by white walls and cold floors.
A library of emotional creations that words couldn’t capture,
A movie no one understands but yet tears are always present for.



Years go by and beauty diminishes,
Stories and laughter take its place.
Marriage proposals and inspiring speeches from teachers who feel nostalgia towards me.
For I have been there her whole life.
I stand upon that white pedestal,
Still and silent like I was from the moment I was pulled out the ground.