Irony, the Imposter

I don’t believe

that I am good, sometimes,

and this feeling,

this heavy sense sets in when I am doing good,

so I stop doing what I am good at,

and I am then right in my beliefs, that I am not good,

the Imposter wins again,

and the only good it does,

is take me away from the person I could be,

making me a ghost of possibilities.

*

I have been sitting on this feeling for a while, and I am very thankful that the Imposter stepped off of my fingers long enough to type this out.

Imposter Syndrome is so strange, because it stems from something beautiful, support, but then we assume this strange belief that we are not good enough for such support.

I hope this poem resonates with others, and someone who has this ironic character over for dinner once a month, you are not alone. Keep working, and know that this is your gift, no one can take that away from you, not even a figment of your imagination.