midnight every day
I lie in bed haunted by my own thoughts
and a question echoes through my bones
“can you really do it?”

almost two decades of the same thing
this question that bears down on me
is what I do enough?
is all of this exhaustion enough to prove something?

oftentimes I let myself be lost
between the lines and the colors and the textures
tangled in the words the world has bestowed upon me
trapped in the frames of what I display to the world

but with every piece I showcase
a part of me is eternally in each one
and the more I give to this earth
the less I have to myself

sometimes I let myself collapse into nothingness
breaking myself beyond repair
trying to find weakness and striking there
just to pour more into the art that I struggle to create

is there really anything good that will come out of this?
is using every ounce of my heart and soul worth every single day?

but if there is anything this cruel world has taught me
it is that I do not just give up on what I love
and what I love might be the death of me
and yet it is the immortality that will carry me on
it is the beauty that I am willing to leave behind