the candle flickered softly
till the snuffer was brought forth.
the illusion of knowledge
given to the world is stripped
as the light fell from the eyes
of the innocent when truth was seen.
perhaps the snuffer has uses,
the world darkness does need…
the light has uses and knowledge
can be gleaned by leaving
the innocent to see.
As the moonlight illuminates
the world around me,
that is when my muse awakens.
Though the whole world
is closing its eyes,
and I find myself wanting
to settle in weak and weary…
the muse is insistent
I pickup the pen
and bleed again .
So I posted about an anthology that Serena is in. It really is such a lovely book. The other authors are amazing…and I can’t help feeling like I don’t belong there. The story I wrote was decent…I am not going to claim it was awful or any crap like that. But there is an Introduction in the front of the book that lists that authors as the top horror and dark romance authors…And my brain goes ok now I am guilty of lying to these amazing people.
Imposter syndrome is such a tough thing to grapple with. Most of the best authors I know fight with it. It can seriously cripple even the best writer to a mess and make writing a defeated blank on an overthinking mind…
So, I am struggling with my own brain. I don’t want to accept the idea that I am unable to tell the stories locked inside the squishy lump calling itself my brain.