Paint brushes scattered on the kitchen table
I dab water colors, blend reds and blues
Nothing I put on paper seems quite right
I turn to a new page and starts again
The voice in my head taunts me,
βYouβll never be good enough.β
βWho do you think you are?β
βYour colors are bleeding into each other.β
I drop the brush, head in my hands
The voices continue.
βGive up while youβre ahead.β
βHow desperat...