"You've failed the writing" - you were told, And you gave up. You quit. I saw one more young talent fold, And they just laughed at it. If you are told life's hard to play, Your breath will still not cease. How one should breathe, one cannot say, As well as what to breathe. You generated thoughts in rhymes, The crowds wanted prose. You know, they get harsh at times From "truthful overdose". You proved yourself a zero, too - A zero with a core. And though your words are so damn true, You're nothing. Nothing more.
