Imagine me saying the following:
“These words,
(arranged by a man
who loves to prose,
are causing a kind of doubt,
though obviously
this is tinged
by the valley of depression
that splits him in twain
and he stares morosely
at creations he lacks confidence
upon) are a display
of indulgence and self therapy.”

Imagine me thinking the following:
“Stop. Build upon yourself.
Take the bricks,
even the cracked
and the broken,
and wall up.
Your foundation is solid,
your mortar is strong,
torn lines can be filled.
You have the words
at your command.”