"I want to be a writer…"

:::

Want, sometimes doesn't do the trick

It's more of a need, an ever demanding desire

A trick among the wrist that brings your heart a-bliss

:::

But others don't understand

Once those words trickle off your lips

They hunt you down and make you twitch

:::

"Oh, a writer" they say "you'll never make it that way."

As if they know what I need

As if they could just squash this dream

:::

With one word

Oh the power they wish to hold

Upon their almighty gossiping throne

:::

But no word will strike me down

Make me whimper, make me frown

Because the love I hold is formed in ink

Trickled on papers, walls, and sheets

:::

I hope to make my dream more profound

Marked on street corners, book stores, and crowds

But if that never occurs, I will be alright

'for I have found what makes my heart flutter

My soul dance, my life silver, and my mind at rest

:::

And to think it wasn't money that did all this…

I guess they really don't know me at all