I wish I was nicer to myself

This piece is about my self-doubt and anxiety about my writing.

1 am – The clock is ticking and with every chip it makes,
I feel more and more worthless and I begin to shake.
I should be studying for my exam,
Not reading or writing bland.

2 am – No one is going to like my work,
I love it, but I don’t want to get hurt.
What if it’s shit? or what if it’s good?
They’ll probably burn my words instead of wood.
They need something exciting
Words worth crying.
I deliver no such thing,
But I keep striving.

3 am – My future is set with the man I love,
But will it ever be enough?
I’ll have a good job,
Pretty sure it’s one that will make me sob.
I’ll get everything I need,
I wish my heart agreed.
I want so much,
But I barely deserve his soft touch.

4 am – I want so badly to write,
I wish I could hide.
I want people to love it,
I am scared to admit.
I want to believe in myself
But I know I’m not good enough.

5 am – Please someone tell me what to do?
I’m feeling awfully blue.
Should I publish my writing and take a chance?
Or keep it for me and stay in a trance?
What do I have to lose?
Gaining more constant self-abuse.