Imperfects judging you
Without knowing what you convey
How you felt
Your anticipations

Hard work never ends without
Dissections of products
Of that which is personally gratifying to you
But stormed upon by others

They don’t know the flaws
That you point out yourself
For it is your work
Your dream

No person is a judge of a piece
Except for its owner
Its creator
For only they know of the work that went into it
They can detect every ounce of imperfection
Of which is not seen by the observer’s eye

For those who felt personally gratified
Before the criticism of another
Strive on