Enough.

I can't  let things go.
It feels
sometimes
like sand slips
through my fingertips.

The sand
is a metaphor
for my sanity.
For my peace of mind.
Do you get it?
Is it clever?
Will it get published?
Am I good enough yet?
How can someone
who practices
so much,
not be good enough?

I never like to
release these thoughts.
Because I feel
like they dig my grave.

- like if I let an inkling
of this out,
it will over take me.
But now it feels
if I leave it
too,
too,
bottled up -
it will never leave me at all.
And it will taint my words,
with sick greed.
I am good enough,
I work hard enough,
I want it enough.
I
I
I
I.
-
That was a good release.

10/18/2015
Riley Welch