Take on board all criticism
and disregard it like you would an old coat
leave it beneath your feet
step on it—
stomp on it—
dance on it—
every day if it helps
until it is all but a distant memory—
in time
dust will collect upon it
and years from now
when you are old and grey
you’ll trip on threadbare woolen shreds
and you’ll remember what was said
it won’t matter any more
nothing will—
you will have made your way
success will be yours
and those who spewed forth that venomous doubt
in a verbal spate
will lie humbly six feet under
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