Was My Worth Tied Into Being a Critic?

They say every one is a critic

I certainly wouldn’t deny it

My silvery-platinum eyes were spectacles for others

These opinions mattered more in multiple contexts

While proud of these observations

My pride in my own originality faded harder than vintage denim

So many fires, so many embers

Only a few would become pyrotechnics, though I wouldn’t want them to be altars

Other creative works would be on display

There was a joy in bringing light to the obscure from all around the world

No, Japan wasn’t my only destination even though a section of this part of the net appreciated those shiny pennies from the Rising Sun

While I’m versatile, I didn’t want to be confined

Much less ashamed of having fandoms at all

I prayed I wasn’t a failure in all my endeavors

As I’ve thought for most of my life

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