The Business of Writing

My reason says that it is best,

To saunter through these final tests,

A stack of books pressed to my chest,

To stick it out and pass.



Though I care not for trade logistics,

Economics, or statistics,

I think I might just go ballistic,

If I gave up World Lit class.



My heart is heavy in Accounting,

An inner tension slowly mounting,

I’m sick of all this math and counting,

I think I’d rather write.



Though jobs are scarce and all must worry,

To and fro like mice we scurry,

I feel that I am in no hurry,

And know that I am right.



To don a business suit and blazer,

Stings my soul just like a taser,

In sweats and socks I’d rather laze or,

Read a book instead.



Or maybe write one, yeah I’d love it,

But don’t think I can rise above it,

To take my MBA and shove it,

Ignore what papa said.



The English majors flutter by,

Their hearts so full of words, and I,

Can only breath a jealous sigh,

And wish I were so brave.



To write and read and read and write,

No food to eat, no cash in sight,

But ever blessed with such insight,

To never comfort crave.



Not I, not I. I can’t afford,

To either starve or be adored,

Or live under a loving lord,

And feed my writers’ whim.



The business majors are content,

Not happy, but we pay our rent,

Until our souls are worn and spent,

And writers’ light grows dim.



While not adverse to higher learning,

I cannot lie, my heart is burning,

With more than just a subtle yearning,

To write, to write, to write.



For now, the call must be ignored,

In feirce pursuit of paths deplored,

And yet, my heart is drifting toward,

The light, the light, the light.