Silence, I'd want all of it.
Running so fast after that button was missed
Too anxious to really make it a hit
Among everyone, there'd be admiration
A sun, or two.
But the work wasn't up to par for you
At least that's what I heard
I don't write for anyone, as blunt as that may seem
I still find myself looking for approval
For the work already created
I'm not looking for validation
To create and be creative
But often too afraid to strike out
In dissassaproval
Of work, I'm most vulnerable of.
I don't ever want to create a piece that has no resolution
To just leave an open wound or thought
Left to be just that
I feel obligated to share a brightening shade to my darkest moments
In order for someone to truly benefit from my shared work
That is why the pieces in my drafts, stay in draft.
But what I can tell you is,

I'm still not always ok.


I feel like my life is kept in the drafts folder.
Yeah, I'm always progressing in life, in the journey
Even in what seem like standstill moments
Of solitude and suffering.
But that's the thing,
I'm progressing
So isn't all work, published or not in life, still a "draft"?

None of our journies are over yet.
Let's share our drafts
And create our finished work, together