Zero Grace

Zero grace… Sometimes it’s just hard For me to say thanks

When it’s charity and support? Gratitude comes easy

But Compliments are hard to receive

Especially because

They are hard to believe

I still say what I’m supposed to say

“Thanks for the kind words, you made my day”

All because I don’t wanna seem cruel

Or distant

Or aloof

But I do feel a fool

And that’s the plain truth

I’m not calling those kind words lies

When someone says that I’ve done a good job

I believe that they believe what they say

But I just can’t agree,

Not on the inside

Inside I am:

Insufficient

That’s how I really feel

In love…

In work…

In life…

Inadequate

Like I am pretending

Even when I write

I am in a shell of my own making

There’s a veneer of confidence

Without real belief

(In my art or in my self)

But I keep writing and I keep being me

Not because I choose to,

But because I must

Because the alternative

—The hurt of giving up—

Is too harsh to allow

So

Every admonition and all the

Ruminations

I chew them like poison

Such bitterness burns the tongue so I hurry those harsher truths straight down to my gut

Self-doubt

Gulped down

A quick swallow

So the acid can no longer pucker my gums,

If it hurts to mull over, let it fester at the core

No

There is no accolade

Strong enough to dispel

Negative self-speak

But I force myself to say thanks anyway,

Whenever I receive

Undeserved praise

Though it always makes me feel like a thief

Whatever I’ve done well,

That’s gotta be a fluke

I’m out of my depth

The bubble will shrink

And then it must burst

I don’t want to be good,

What I want is to be great

But here I am:

Lowly

Gazing up at the average

I am lost in awe of the towering crowd

Ah!

How the ego, trembles and shies

When it is thrust up into the light!

Whether you sleep alone or with a lover, pajamas really serve no purpose

But I pretend a comfort below those kind, glaring words

I am losing the battle against myself

But I manage to say thanks

For I was always taught to be

Gracious in defeat

And then I remember:

There is no shame in being meager

My art doesn’t have to be great

To be worth making

And I don’t have to be great

To have a life worth living

It is still worth it to

Try

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