If you struggle with yourself
But manage to make art with it,
I will find you
and insist you are a masterpiece.

I used to call myself a poet

When I would sit down and type away
Following a meter and setting the rhyme
Throwing up my emotions onto a screen

I also used to call myself a writer

Back when I used to write and edit and publish for hours
Putting plots together and creating characters
Sharing my skills for others to enjoy

I once called myself an artist

I would sketch in notebooks and paint in pages
Mixing colors and blending into sunsets
Putting my thoughts into pictures

I used to call myself a musician

In a time I would create melodies and bend the air
Plucking stings along with the beat and bowing to the harmony
Singing with my heart in mind

I used to call myself many things

But these days I don't find myself calling me anything
Unlike before sonnets no longer bloom in my head
Stories don't flow from my fingertips
My emotions don't ball up and fall onto paper like they used to
I no longer bend the air to create sound

Now I call myself nothing

Creating nothing, saying nothing, doing nothing
I am nothing