What I think are thrilling stories
Play incessant in my head,
But what my inner vision see's
Not what my eyes have read,
Yet, the cause of disappointment,
The work of many days,
Has, when shown to others,
Been quite the cause of praise.
I've never thought I'm worthy
Just 'cause they like me or what-not,
So I'm writing twice as fast now,
To be half of what I'm thought.
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