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Writing a book, and getting someone to buy and then read it…
Self published, so you must be a little conceited
Like folks in reality shows, rubbing sticks together to make fire
Hands calloused and bleeding, the situation is dire…
Rewarded with nothing but smoke, sweat, and char
They only care about wizards, comic books and vampires, so your stories are subpar
Still you are your own worst critic
Motivated at times, but you often regret that you ever did it…
Success should be the fact that you actually wrote it
But your greed wants readers to recommend and then quote it!
Thought you’d do something different, like a contestant singing acapella
Gave them scoops of Rocky Road
But all they really wanted was vanilla…
Confused, you choose to believe that eventually someone will see
Years pass by, the moment is gone, when you realize all along, that your only fan was me…
