"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