For all who read (or any who care)
I may somehow give up writing but no one
Would be aware.
After dozens of failed poems-sitting all alone,
"This is it!" I say and promise I won't write again,
There is much writers block so at least I come
Up with something NEW now and then.
But who cares about that?
Instead, we'll read re-hashed garbage
And praise it like it's priceless.
People make me sick, because they're
A vain sort that bring new meaning to the word
Foolishness.