Your mind is the immortal womb,
From it births words and worlds
Your soul is a potion of alchemy,
Waiting to be heard and brought into this world.
Ideas crack and sparkle on hot stoves,
Iron pans explode and gold froths and spills.
Your sagging heart mourns what once was
Doubt has become your royal adversary.
Why do you deny your unfiltered creativity?
The child’s excitement has become cold and clogged,
Weep now for what you have done to yourself
You have subjected yourself to a standard that crushes you
It is time for you to allow yourself to become what you once were.