Do I,
or will I ever hit the bullseye?
With my DIYs,
my words on paper,
my longing to connect?
Or am I —
will I always be —
just shy of enough?
A whisper away from perfect
but never quite there.
Maybe I can paint,
maybe I just don’t dip my brush enough,
maybe I’m bound by too many lines —
the ones that say,
"Stay inside,"
"Blend in,"
"Get it right.",
Or
Should I dance?
What about,
"Stay in rhythm,"
"Don’t stumble,"
"Keep it graceful."
Can I sing?
They keep repeating,
Hit the pitch,"
"Stay in tune,"
"Make it flawless."
In short:
"Try harder,"
"Fit in,"
"Make it work."
But you know what?
Forget the rules.
I’ll keep throwing darts,
one after another,
missing the mark
but loving the throw,
the flight, the fall.
So maybe I never hit the bullseye,
but who cares?
It’s the aim, the arc,
the sweet release,
that keeps me coming back
for another
Don't mind my messy DIYs,
just pieces of imperfect dreams...