This is half poetry post, half processing. Half-baked? 😕 

Of late, I am writing more. That should be good, right? I have a lot to say. Yet, almost I am feeling as if I am beginning to pump a drying well. 

Really. This stuff doesn’t seem as good as prior efforts. And, I actually looked at stats. I make it a practice not to in this happy, non-ambitious world I have set up here. But, I did. And they seem… low. Sigh. 

Maybe, I am just too hard on myself. Maybe I need to not read too much into absence. Or I might just have realized I can’t fully escape the approval seeker inside. I don’t know. At any rate, I don’t know just what I am seeing, but I know I don’t like it…

Sometimes, I wonder if I will ever 

Truly be content in myself,

Even in this, my blessed haven of

Eternal words.

I snatch at bits and pieces,

You see,

Sharing morsels with those precious few

I feel I can trust to see me.

I smile a moment,

Think I’ve found peace,

Only to find it gone.

Oh, there are depths

I can’t seem to get,

A place that is drying up

Before I can reach it!

And, somehow, I know I could dare not 

Reveal it all 

Even if I could.

Not even to the looking glass gaze.

For, yes, I often shrink from my own reflection, my friends;

I cringe and retreat to a sort of 

Unfocused haze.

Or, maybe, maybe… it’s just that it’s hard to

Find the right face, anyway, 

In this,

My not-so-funhouse mirror maze…

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