Wandering on the Prose..

Reading peoples hearts.

A glimpse into the lives of many.

So much talent.

So much pain.

And suddenly my words seem inadequate.

And I've got half a mind to give up on my dreams.

Why write.?

When I'm not as lyrical as Mel.

And I'll never emulate pain like YAngeL.

Couldn't be as empathetic as Shells even if I tried.

Impossible to imitate DaveK's darkness.

My flow is so subpar.

When Sandflea68 can evoke madnes or lust with the flick of a finger.

So many gifts.

And mine is sorely lacking.

Surely I should bow out.

Wandering on theProse.

I'm going nowhere fast.