Excellence, proclaimed a voice
You are no genius; the judgement sealed
Your words, plain
Your lines, crooked
Your colors, lacklustre
Your story, average
For talent, you lack!
The harshness of those words;
Drowned all that was left of a little soul

Her tiny world had limited means
Crashing it came yet again
I am no good,
A drop of tear touched her beloved diary
Screamed she, albeit in silence
I feel the weight of thy burdens
And I shall take no more,
A decision she made
An artist’s soul
Succumbed to its injuries

The little child took to her books
Literary and otherwise
Literary she adored
Confessed it was, to none
Her pursuit was dead
In the graveyard of her dreams

Years later,
She found an accomplice
An accomplice to revive
The dead pieces of her soul
United she felt in a pursuit she had assumed dead
Confidence didn’t come easy
The ghosts of the past came to haunt
The child in her looked for acceptance
Flow it did, and how!

Thus started a journey;
A journey marked for none but her
Judgements and labels
Bothered her not
Alive she felt in the company of her words
Words make; and words break
And she stands testimony to that
For she labels herself,
Cynically Creative!!