The hardest thing about writing Used to be rejection but now It is the crazy aftermath Of question marks that appear After I’ve left all my Answers on the page It becomes not a matter of quality Or quantity but a matter of why; Why does outside acceptance matter? Part of me sees the old metaphysical ploy I’ll get it once I don’t want it. Can I walk into that room and Switch off the light of desire? Is writing simply a vehicle In which to drive my persona Stopping occasionally to mop My sweat-filled brow and rest My silly soul dedicated to The business of ego? Is that it? Share this:ShareFacebookWhatsAppEmailRedditLike this:Like Loading... Related Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here... Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email (required) (Address never made public) Name (required) Website You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change ) Cancel Connecting to %s Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. Post navigation Previous Previous post: FOR THE CHEER LEADER OF SCIENCENext Next post: Safeguards of Spring
Leave a Reply