Poem: Poetry Doesn’t Sell

They tell me, “I have to stop.”
It’s a waste of time.
You are spoiling your life.
You are no good at it.

You have a good job at hand.
Why don’t you focus on that?
MBA, Medicine, IT- it sells
Poetry doesn’t sell.

Is this poetry what you write?
It has no rhyme.
It’s like a story.
Why don’t you write a story then?

Did the results come?
Have you won this time?
Lost again.. What a shame!
Are you gonna write again?

Can’t you see what I have written?
It’s a little poem on dreams.
Yes, I call it a poem. ‘Cause that’s what I wrote.
I would buy it with my last penny. ‘Cause I believe in it.

I take a deep breath; anger fumes out.
The smell of wet ink fills my nostrils
I’m on a high only a writer can know.
It’s the smell of my words… brimming with life.