In the quiet chambers of my self-doubt, echoes of unworthiness linger like ghostly whispers


My heart, a fragile tapestry, woven with threads of longing, bears the weight of a narrative that whispers, "unloveable."


My wounded soul, adorned with scars, becomes a canvas where doubts paint their somber hues. A mirror reflects a search for affirmation,

My eyes perceive a canvas marked by perceived inadequacies.
In the quietest moments of the day, my soul yearns for an embrace

Crying for  a love that defies the self-imposed boundaries of unloveability,
seeking redemption in the tender arms of self-acceptance.