My childhood ear
Then there is the chance that I might be judged on my skill, and my skills might be found wanting. It is not a problem to be wanting, to lack, to do as well as possible. But only if it weren't everything, all my want, all my need. If only it weren't the dream poured into my childhood ear. A dream I am not sure is mine, or a distortion of what was poured into childhood ear.
The secrets I keep are so dull, secrets that are not embarrassing. Truthfully, there is nothing embarrassing about the secret, only if I mentioned the secret it might lead to a discussion, and I am not good at it but I so want to be good at it. More than anything, which is why it is a secret.
