A Dress Achieved
There is no hope I can succeed
With two hours till the deadline dies.
Dress scraps are all that I’ve achieved.
I started with aims I believed
In: dreams that I now compromise.
There is no hope I can succeed.
I swore on art, and to exceed
My best. Yet now those oaths are lies:
Dress scraps are all that I’ve achieved.
But then, in a dwindling reprieve,
I stop myself, and then ask why
There is no hope. I can succeed.
And as the train to Canterlot leaves,
My work is on’t: one final try
A single, burning burst achieved.
Not perfect, but for one conceived
When every thought of mine did vie
“There is no hope I can succeed”,
There’s worth enough it was achieved.