Worry sets in when
I've no contribution
not already conceived
into sweeter fruition
   by someone more clever
   succinct and brunette
   the picture of an artist
   in suffering and debt
Hell, even when musing
on futility
the words lumber lacking
all fluidity
   Meters much marked
   Rhymes relentlessly schemed
   Capering for couplets
   as yet still undreamed
Why bother?  I wonder
Why scribble along
and much melancholy
for one hopeful song?
   Doubts in ascendance,
   my pen digs the earth
   to China if need be
   and the end of poem's worth.