enough

I feel like I'm running out of time and that I'm not using it to the fullest. If I make a bunch of shitty poems in an hour did I practice art or waste an hour of my life. Maybe I need to find a muse that I can look forward to. Every single time I do I barate myself for overuse. Over expression, over thought, I force myself ruine the plot. I get in my head I hate myself, think that I get obsessive and that all my art is not done well. Why can't I have these grand emotions swelling through my being. Why am I not allowed to express them in a way I'm happy with. Why do I have to be my own worst enemy this. Why am I not enough for me.