What would I tell a younger me,
Buy Apple, Amazon, be a franchisee,
Make money'd be my drab and drone,
Abandon passion with its tiresome moan.

But if you are trapped inside a dream,
With no escape from the poet's scheme,
Then let go now of all trepidation
And live your life in anticipation.

For an artist is a soul that's lost,
Curious, carefree, despite that cost,
And if you member with rogues and jesters,
Then death scares not and fear sequesters.