Who'd Want To Be A Writer Poem by Matthew Holloway

Who'd want to be a writer
Beset by this madness
And all these sleepless nights
Trying in vain to capture
That one perfect idea
That opening line to kill them all
Have the reader captured
So entirely they read on
Forever through verse and chapter

Who'd want to be a writer
Driver by some unknown force
To create or photograph in words
Examples of human nature, life
Love what a word that is
Full of all the possibilities imaginable
And then some more besides
Great joys and greater tragedies
What is it about love we write

Who'd want to be a writer
Putting yourself heart and soul
Out into the world for critique
Vulnerable upon an open page
Vying for that book deal
To grasp immortality just once
TO be accepted amongst peers
Valued for a lifetimes work
And the knowledge this passion
Is not wasted ink

Who'd want to be a writer
I muse to myself
I'm a literary addict
I couldn't stop even if I wanted
Sleepless nights, wasted ink
And the words on a page
May as well be on my skin
Who'd want to be a writer
Where do I begin