Writers And Artists Will Go "this Isn't Good Enough." My Brother In Christ, You're Creating Something

#80 I wish poetry came easily. 

Bright words that could naturally sweep through me. 

Like intoxicating and wonder filled seas.

Of lavender, teal and parsnip creme

Trickle from page from pen, from pen to me.

I wish the dam was never closed.

Inspiration endless but an eb and flow,  

Not brilliant wet flashes then dry lonely stones. 

Then the dam’s tight as a dish and I am alone. 

Left to smack at cement and wait in the cold 

For the stones to split apart and invite me to explore the sea. 

But I fumble and stumble, push pen forward on. 

I keep writing haiku, couplet or song,

With remaining words, mediocre and oblong as can be. 

And I feel new stream beds forming beneath me. 

if we could read minds I still don't think we'd understand them.

I’m begging you to write for yourself.

“But readers don’t like—“ who cares?

The only reader of your story that you should care about is yourself.

Do you like your story? Yes? Then it’s perfect.

Excerpt from my poetry book "Stars in the Universe", out now!

thesaurus.com save me

I am good. I am loved.

Scattered poertry from my scattered brain (is this anything? idk)

IN 150 CHARACTERS OR LESS - Nikita Gill

Here’s a 5 page comic about a weird project I spent the last month working on 🪲