If You’ve Never Bled on the Page, Hush

It’s always the ones
who’ve never dared a blank page,
never wrung their hearts
into sentences,
never sat in the silence
long enough
to find something real—
that seem to have
the most to say.

They sit,
untouched by the work,
unscarred by creation,
yet so eager
to slice apart yours.

Critique is one thing.
Craft matters.
We grow from truth
spoken with care.

But some folks
aren’t offering mirrors—
they’re tossing stones.
And not because your work is flawed,
but because your courage
makes them flinch.

It is easy
to feel superior
when you risk nothing.
When your hands are clean
because they’ve never once
been dipped in ink,
or heartache,
or the raw work
of giving form to feeling.

Let them talk.
Let them scoff.
Let them sneer
from the safety
of their silence.

You—
you are doing the brave thing.
You are showing up
to the fire.
You are making something
where nothing once lived.

So take the feedback
that fuels you.
Welcome the wisdom
of those who build.

But when someone
who has never written a damn thing
tries to tell you who you are—
laugh.
Then write again.

Because those who create nothing
have no right
to tell you
what art should be.