"If only, if only!"
The tired writer cries
"I was paid not in dollars,
but only in pride!
After all these years
I have come to find
That truly nothing is
as rare and finite
As the fickle currency
Of true, honest pride.
Some spend it quickly,
Some let it hide
Some people take it
From other folks' lives
You've watched it go
After believing a lie
You've seen it stolen
In the defeated man's sigh
Some people waste it,
And I don't know why.
I may not remember it,
But I'd rather die!
Than to do something as foolish
as to swallow my pride!"