A Faded Dream

A whisper starts, a quiet hum,
“You’re not enough,” the murmurs come.
A shadow thought, a heavy dread,
Planting doubts inside my head.

I see the world in vibrant gleam,
And feel I’m just a faded dream.
Comparing starts, a bitter art,
Tearing self-worth quite apart.

The moments rise, when strength feels low,
And efforts seem to barely grow.
A voice insists, with mocking tone,
“You stand in this wide world, alone.”

Yet in the quiet, I recall,
The times I rose, despite the fall.
The battles won, the lessons learned,
A inner fire, softly burned.

Perhaps this doubt, a passing cloud,
Not truth declared, nor spoken loud.
A human echo, faint and deep,
While truer strengths, within me sleep.

For “good enough” is not a prize,
But knowing self, with honest eyes.
And even when the shadows loom,
My own bright light can fill the room.

More works by Nancy Ann Creed

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