I ask myself, “Why bother?”
As I take my pen in hand-
I guess my only reason,
Is the simple fact: “I can.”
“Can what?” Someone may ask me-
“Why, write.” Is my reply.
Maybe I should get some “ink”-
And make it “Write or Die”.
I love the way a well-turned phrase-
Rolls smoothly off the tongue.
I’ve tried my hand at writing,
Since I was very young.
I’ve written reams of poetry-
But if the truth be known…
My greatest disappointment is-
I just can’t write a song!
To put my words to music-
Would be my great desire.
I foolishly imagine that my words
Just might inspire!
Alas, the gift eludes me-
Though I strive far into the night.
I’m left in deep depression-
As I ask myself- “Why write?”
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