I cannot stop

I cannot stop.

Yes, I’m not good at it,
but I cannot stop.

It hurts sometimes when you criticize so bluntly, but I accept them - your words - daggers that they are; because I know, sometimes, mine are too insipid, too hackneyed, too clumsily and ineptly woven together.

But I cannot stop.

Yes, I’m not good at it,
but I cannot stop.

Because I had once asked,
should I stop then,
being so incompetent
and out of my depth
with them?

And had been asked,
do those words
thrown at you
hurt more or
do those words
caught in you?



Yes, I’m not good at it,
but I cannot stop.

I cannot stop.