Insecurity gets us nowhere. Doubt, nothing.
Plaguing our minds with fears of inadequacy
holds us back from the fire from within that burns.
We aren’t a spotless vision or creature from the sands,
but aloof from ourselves, unknowing,
inside of a maze complicated, untold from outside.
We may be a star of success and envy,
We may be that of a locomotive or flower,
But what we see when we feel for ourselves is
that which is influenced by our condition. A mystery,
judged, imperfect, perfecting foolishly.
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