Ink stains on my hands
I spend ten hours a week trying to describe my passion
through a blood stained carving tool
I waste paper that last over a hundred years trying to make my ideas into realities
Through this whole process my mind rejects my heart saying
" You will never be successful in your passions!"
" You are wasting your time! "
" You will never be able to find something artistic that you love"
I try to ignore these blaring comments by working even harder
My heart is devoted to my passions but sometimes doubts my ambitions
Always cautious and reminding me that I need to find something that I love
It is just so hard not to love the only thing that makes you feel loved