I'm just another teen with crippling depression

As each day goes by, I doubt writing's my profession

My last name isn't Green, King or Kaur

And if I think I'll write a famous book in college I'll just leave college poor

I don't want to be 23, living by shore

Coming home with my briefcase, living a life full of bore

I want to come home, coffee in my hand, ready to write more

But I feel like everything I write makes people bored

I dream of having my books all over bookstores

But honestly at this point, maybe another job is what I'll look for