The Critic

I am a crumbling statue
chipped and cracked, eroded by time
I stand tall, but my foundation is weak
my self-esteem, a fleeting thought, hard to find

Like a whisper on the wind, it slips away
leaving me feeling empty and alone
I am a canvas, splattered with insecurities
the brushstrokes bold, never fully defined

I try to drown out the negativity
but it echoes like a drumbeat in my mind
I am a bird with broken wings
struggling to break free and leave behind

The chains of self-doubt, they weigh me down
like a heavy blanket, suffocating my soul
But I won't give up, I'll keep fighting
for I am the critic, and only I can conquer my mind.