Doubt no further,

For what is there to?

His accomplishments are not mine own,

and so, they shall never be.

Does this, then, make me unworthy?

A piece of paper with a title?

Or lack thereof

Is my mind incapable of such arts?

That which, coming from him,

would be no less striking than from my hand?

Perhaps even less so.

Misunderstand not,

for I am not better;

but to exist on the same plane

should not feel like a crime,

something to be exiled for, or something to make me feel fraudulent

when all the difference lies in ink and paper.

​

​

— A.M. Sención

2024