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Why I Write
They tell me, “Write something real”
But what does that even mean?
What is real?
Whose real?
And so I write
And it is real
To me, at least
And I am satisfied
But they tell me, “Write something real”
And all I hear is,
“My reality is better than yours;
You are nothing without me”
And so I write
And it is real
To me, at least
And I am satisfied
But they tell me, “Write something real”
And I realize
That all you really mean
Is, “write what I right”
And so I put my pen down
And it is real
To me, at least
And I am satisfied
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