CRITIC By Elizabeth Myers


Cigarette smoke forms a cloud above my head,
My hand trembles at the thought of putting pen to paper.
Self-doubt, it’s intoxicating.
Words come and go,
They’re hiding in the dark.
Lost train,
Scattered thoughts.
Where do I go from here?
Dotted lines,
The stroke of keys.
Why does it feel unfamiliar to me?
Pressure intensifies,
I have to make it right.
Jumbled words under an incandescent light.
Rough drafts become even rougher,
Until they cease to exist.
Incomplete work,
I feel like a mess.
Sometimes I can’t even get dressed.
Loose leaf stares back at me,
Mocking me once again.
“You’ve failed me” it says,
Just like an ink blot test.
Drying eyes as the clock strikes two,
Is my work good enough for you?
Who am I asking that to?
I can’t be perfect,
Nor should I try.
Sometimes I wonder, why I am still alive.
Always the bridesmaid,
Never the bride.
Always running fast,
But never catching the limelight.

The train has come and gone,
I have missed it once again.
Really starting to feel like Harley Quinn-
Good girl gone bad,
Good girl gone mad.
A pencil her knife,
A pen her gun.
She doesn’t need more
To get the job done.

Graduating from the University of Kentucky in 2017 and 2018, with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology and a Master’s degree in Mental Health Counseling, respectively; Elizabeth followed her passion for service as a therapist. She grew up writing short stories and song lyrics. Elizabeth found her passion for poetry in 2020 and began writing narrative and/or lyrical pieces. She inspires to travel the world with a glass of wine and her first published book of poetry by her side by the age of 30.  


  1. Love your poetry Liz! Keep up the good work.Nothing happens until you speak.In the beginning was the word. Love You!!! Auntie Betty!!!


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