okay,

[chromaticgreys]

I wrote a poem about my frustrations instead of jumping ship:

I should give up on my most basic dream
the one I've had since I was six
the dream of becoming a writer
because I have nothing of worth to say,
I have not slept in a cardboard box
or slept with an entire Turkish harem.
I do not have a beard I can stroke
and say wise things that shake the soul.
I refuse to cut off my ear or tattoo my arms
or run screaming through the village
with a Burger King crown on my head,
flailing my arms and screaming, "I'm the king!"
before plotting my own curdled demise.
No one gives a shit about my writing
because I'm not weird, I'm not worldly,
my persona is nowhere to be seen.
I'm just a boring, ordinary person
scribbling to record a boring life,
the one that so many people live and therefore
do not need to read about.