reaching out to visualise some colours
but the possibility has a low chance

i can't even see the reason why i can make things
draw listlessly on a piece of parchment

holding a pen, my ideas are just suddenly gone
like my mind decided to leave me in my shadow

i desire to be good with my works
but it seems that, my imagination isn't enough for everyone

i'm no people-pleaser but, why can't i be good enough?
it's hard to make these poems, drawings and stories

it feels like you're taking me down to a level
where i will feel like having an untitled imagination

i want to feel appreciated but my humility pulls me down

*what is wrong with me?

i see not
my beauty
but the ugliness
and the negativity
that the world
has filled
in me.