A soul is better when like
an empty jar
The more spare space
The more free you are
To give the gift of mercy
Upon those too full
Of hurt and hate
shitty writing
A meeting inside my head: “Your writing is shit.”
I had a meeting with myself
“Your works not up to scratch.”
I said, a nod of agreement from everyone else not in the room
Ensued
“Quite frankly, you just don’t have what it takes.”
I sighed and took the criticism, felt an urge to apologise
But I carried on with myself, “You can’t cut the mustard, all in agreement with your leaving your writing at the door, put your hand up.”
I raised my hand, including myself
“There we have it. Meeting adjourned,” I look at my watch, “At 17:05.”