Criticism

I still have days

When no matter

How much I accomplish

I feel like a failure

Paralyzed by fear

Transfixed

Trembling

I look at these things

That I am creating

And for a moment

I feel pride again

Until I wonder

How they will be received

By the people

Who matter to me

Or by the person

Who shouldn’t

And usually doesn’t

Until he condemns me

Yet again

In vitriol

And what about

When complete strangers chime in

Will their words matter

Or only if they praise

My pendulum

Is a constant motion machine

That I wish I could still

If I didn’t care

I wouldn’t aim for perfection

So I suppose I do create

For other people

Even when the momentary truth

Is that these words

Are for me

I wish that when I share them

I could filter the responses

Because I don’t think

People understand

The power of their words

I only hope

That I can be stronger

Than their criticism