david namerow


Could-a-bin a contender, a pretender for the crown
A man whose deeds and words were gilded with renown
I could have left a heavy mark, gone down in history
But I chose to build the chains of my failure's legacy

Could-a-bin a writer, I had words shaped and honed
My great imagined novels, rave reviews engraved in stone
Paid six figures for a treatment, or a million maybe more
But I chose instead to dream ‘cause rewriting was a bore.

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