Writer’s Life

The mornings, the lunches, the nights,

I’m working in a bar for six days out of seven,

My time in life is persistently tight,

I’m writing on the sidelines, my words creating my heaven.

Letters tumble, the words crumble, my world begins to have a tinge of scumble.

But for every sale I get, makes me think that I made the right bet.

Every compliment creates another document, and my words might just go around the occident.

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