Poem #1657

The Truth Hurts

Do I try to be more than I am?
Is the image I portray just a sham?
I’ve always wanted to have a career in fiction,
But constant rejections have hurt my conviction,
I know publication is out of my control,
But after 20 years I’m no closer to my goal,
It’s time to admit my fiction isn’t good enough,
Accepting that bitter pill of truth is tough,
I routinely attend workshops and classes without a dividend,
Hell, I’ve practiced and practiced but to what end?
Compared to those who get published my stories fall flat,
Sure, I could self-publish but what good is that?
No matter how hard I try my stories never hit the mark,
The difference between dreams and reality is stark,
My writing dreams are unattainable I feel,
At what point do I need to get real?

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