In the quiet halls of reflection, where words echo loudly

A whisper of criticism can feel like a shroud

But let not the heart waver, nor spirit be dim

For in the crucible of critique, growth begins

Each word, though sharp, is a tool to refine

Crafting from rawness, a work more sublime

Embrace the discomfort, let it teach and mold

For in the hands of the wise, it turns dross to gold

Stand resilient amidst the storm of review

The journey of improvement is for the brave and few

Let the words wash over; take what is true

And forge ahead, a more robust version of you!

-Criticism-

Blessings and Love!

Thank you for reading.