filling in the unused bits of me

what is it with the waking hour?
words scampering to reach my page
down the block around the corner a boomerang
a theme and now a blank!

profiling my flaws
self-doubt ignites a flood
to try obliterating my self confidence
shivering naked I face my tormentor
who happens to be me

I bare mute witness and testify to my frailty
I am beyond the reach of outrage
some would hide behind a secret, not I!
my gifts far outweigh the negatives in me

much of me remains unused
the ’excitement’ of that prospect overwhelms me
I want to learn
ring the very last drop of what is on offer