It was a cloud of doubt that forced me to ask if what I'm doing is enough. It was my shaking hands that told me that I couldn't do much. But can't you see me? My desperation is killing me. I want to know. I want to know what I shouldn't. I'm trying to know what could be enough. But this one thing I'm certain is good enough would always be too much. Too much of an effort. Too much of a sacrifice. Too much of a thought. And it would only remain as a thought, just sitting in my head. Never a reality I could live with. But maybe that's okay. Because pleasing anyone in this temporary life would be of no use if you could never be enough. Life has given me several people that could accept me and love me for who I am. And I am thankful for that. But maybe for you, I'll never be good enough.
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
