It was bad. Terrible. No good. They just didn't like it.
It was shared. It was published, for all to see. But there were no likes, no comments, no applause. Poet's Facebook friends did not respond.
Poet Spharnx had wasted his time. He had to throw it all out, destroy it. But it was his baby, his product, his production, and he had struck out. There was no home run, no touch down, no field goal, no basket scored, nothing.
It was dead. Poet had left the theatre. He had left the premises and no one cared. He had so much to say and nobody wanted to hear it.
It's the ego, stupid. We like ourselves. We like our thinking. We want to present ourselves and we want respect, agreement, consideration, adoration, acceptance. We want so much. We want it all.
Then reach for the ring again. Just don't give up. Don't ever give up. Go for it. Turn yourself inside out. Make yourself anew and go for it. This we can do. This we should do. Do it.
Written August 12, 2012. Web page created using Arachnophilia 4.0, October 2, 2012.