flicker out | poem

what a short, miserable life you have lived born in a tree and dead in the styx marshes of despair and pity and pain all of your own accord, nothing more to sustain irreproachable on paper, but ultimately flawed in practice and design hanging from street lamps as if you’re alive what a short, miserable…

Doodles and Sketches By a Girl Who Can’t Draw

I kept telling myself that people are born naturally exceptional at certain skills, that some people are naturally good at drawing and I wasn’t one of them; I was denying myself the ability to try. And failing to try will always be a disservice to yourself.