It’s so frustrating
Not being able to do
The things you could always count on
They used to come so easy
Now it’s like pulling teeth
To get a fraction
Of what it used to be
Maybe you’ve run out of tricks
Maybe your hearts not in it
But you are all up in your head
Hyper critical of every move you make
Your own worst enemy
Your biggest critic
Before you even had a chance to begin
You see flashes
Of what you used to be
Records exist on hard drives
Covered in a thin layer of dust
Notebooks filled with pain and anger
Till the pages get warped and brittle
You keep them around as a memento
Tokens representing the old you
The version of you
That never needed to try
Creativity just bursted out of you
Every part of your brain
Dedicated to the crafts of passion
To be able to produce
On a very regular basis
And you let yourself make plans for the future
Pipe dreams of where you could take this
How far you can go
With your own two hands
And all the passion in your heart
But those skills have atrophied
In the attrition battle of survival
The dreams have changed and faded
Yet the desire remains
The passion never dwindles
In your heart nothing has changed
Even if things take a little longer
They are still worth doing
It’s harder, and maybe it should be hard
Things worth doing aren’t easy
And it feels good to dust off the drives
And pull out that old notebook
And add something fresh and new to both
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