imposter syndrome

these words do not feel mine.
they feel foreign and stolen,
and incompetent.
is it my mind playing games,
or is it my heart’s humbleness?
alas, i will never know.
these words:
they do not feel good enough
to share and yet they remain
to precious to hold within,
never worthy of praise but
always too heavy to guard.
do i judge too harshly?
no. yes.
ruiners of unblemished pages,
incomplete in audiences with the greatest,
yet still unfitting in audiences with those not;
not mine to keep, not mine to give away:
forever an imposter.