Keep Trying.

When I was young, I built a boat, with sticks and tape, but it wouldn’t float. The tub laughed hard; my hopes sank deep, but I wiped my eyes and said, “Next time, I’ll keep trying.” Now my room’s full of half-made stuff: crinkled pages, songs not good enough, paint drips on walls where perfection broke, and shaky words in a notebook I wrote. Fear whispers, “Stop, you’ll never win,” but I trip, get up, and try again. Each mess is a start; each “oops” feels right. I’ll fix what’s torn and turn dark to light. Here’s to rough drafts piled by the door, to dreams that crash, then bloom once more. My scars aren’t flaws, they’re roads I’ve picked. Fail loud, friend; I have learned that life’s best trick is; "click, delete, click." For hearts that dare to rip, rewrite, and call it learning, not losing the fight.