This writing world stinks,
you don't need nose to smell the inks.
Most either have it or don't,
they'll make it or won't.
In me there's no worry,
I could care less about cherry.
I don't succumb,
it's not my supporting income.

I've been product of a f 'd up word,
still I try to fly the eagle bird.
Whether the eagle flies or not,
I roast my word in the pot.
I don't look for anyones dressings,
but I appreciate the blessings.

From the first day I started writing,
there's been some fools fighting.

"What makes you think
you can write a book?"

"Why don't you quit posting
those silly poems and leave the spot for the real poets."

"That poem don't make no sense."

And the beat goes on,

so do I,

Will until I die!

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