Poetry About Confidence

At first, my voice arrives barely above breath. The room does not collapse when I begin. I lose a word and find another waiting. Practice turns the floor beneath me solid. By the final sentence, I meet every eye. Confidence grows where I have stayed present.

Begin where certainty starts to thin. The room does not collapse when I begin. The ordinary carries a hidden pressure. Practice turns the floor beneath me solid. We stay until the deeper pattern appears. Confidence grows where I have stayed present.

At first, my voice arrives barely above breath. Hours pass, but the image does not leave. I lose a word and find another waiting. It returns us to self-trust, practice, voice, courage, mistakes, and standing within ones own life. By the final sentence, I meet every eye. The day continues with a more attentive heart.