Charles Bukowski starts this wonderful poem:
if it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it.
He goes on . . . I felt everything was right about his poem.
I spent years of my life feeling guilty about not writing. How foolish!
If it's not eating at you to get out, there's no reason to feel guilty! You're not ready.
Right now I'm in a bit of a rut, blocked, and feeling guilty. No need.