Swansong

I learned how to contend with a writer's block
But how do I cope when the voices stop?
500 words that get no reaction
These are a pittance, just the smallest fraction
Of what I'll prove to be capable of,

But why should I keep writing to receive no love?
I don't know if I can settle for obscurity,
Or how to deal with this insecurity
With a sense of maturity.

I feel like a washed up hack,
Incapable of creating words worthy to pen in black.
I don't want to be a Picasso, or a Van Gogh,
Only appreciated for what I am once I'm gone.
I'd cut off my ear for the shame of my face,
Bite of my own tongue for the sake of my rage.

I scream the last words, the whole place is quiet.
But as I wait for applause it stays deathly silent.
What the f**k's the point of writing,
when the audience is gone.
And you're just waiting to deliver

A perfect swansong


To walk out on...

Reviews

[lyss]

Babe, I do believe this is one of the best poems you've written. I love it:) And your writing is great and people do love it! Just keep doing what you're doing.