Dec. 5th, 2016

anarchist_queen: (Ron)
"I'd like to recite a poem, I think it's a poem," Ron said, to chuckles from the crowd, "That my aunt wrote. She doesn't know I have it. Don't tell her."

He cleared his throat, and began;

"Occasionally, I am clever.

Every now and then, I'm funny.

Sometimes, I am intelligent, or at the very least, am able to string a few words together in a way that I feel it correctly gets across the point I'm trying to make that seems smart in my head.

I am always, creative. Rarely, I am able to summon the energy, inspiration, and attention span to act on that creativity. Once in a blue moon I look back on such efforts and am still pleased by it.

I am never sure of myself. Not for long anyway. Not about my abilities, not about my choices, my philosophy, my path in life, or my worth.

If I am ever proud I'm usually ashamed of it.

Quite often I'll begin something I like and then realize by the end that I've lost the thread of what I was attempting. Like now.

So...the end. I guess."

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Leda Danan

May 2017

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