A Wanna Be Writer’s Lament

I found a striking connect in this poem. DO read and follow this awesome blog.

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I wonder why I can’t write

A work to inspire acclaim!

It isn’t that I’m not that bright,

Or have no talent to my name.

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With creativity I’m more than blessed.

Wisdom floods right out my ears.

Yet my writing never quite impressed.

My lack of fame brings me to tears.

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But I finally realised what is wrong;

The final answer to my wish;

The temptations of wine, women and song

I’ve too long given a miss.

 

 

Think of Byron. Keats and Shelley,

Not to forget the Bard of Avon.

Oh vices, they had aplenty,

Though their public faces were graven.

 

 

And so to be a wealthy author,

I must turn my hand to sin. 

To debauched dens I’ll sally forth, or

Just throw my writing in the bin.

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