Standing on tiptoes,

I yearn

to reach higher

than clouds

blooming

in purple blossoms.

I want to fly free -

I won’t give up.

I hear whispers

flailing

around me

touching wounds

that encumber me

in superficial shell

overflowing

with hunger

for all I can be.

I touch

the reflections

of the rain, knowing

I will once again

grasp the radiance

of my soul

as particles

of sundust

banish chill

from the air,

opening to bliss

as long

as I am willing

to exist.

I cannot pretend that writing is easy

That the hours devoted are hovering around 5,000

I don't need to hear negative words from others

I have plenty of doubt in my own head

I also have something else

I have the belief, the guts, and the determination to continue

It is easy to say "I quit"

That just makes me average

I'm better than average

I won't give up