Fraught with insecurity
Living in obscurity
Writing even when they're tired
Afraid of dying un-admired
The writers ply their trade.
Rejections come from editors
Bills pile up from creditors
But still they concentrate to write
And try to do it every night
The writers ply their trade.
Looking deep within their soul
Understanding is their goal,
Dismayed because the words won't rhyme
This happens to them every time
The writers ply their trade.
Though there is no way of knowing
If the meaning's clearly showing
After everything that's said and done
Reaching out to touch someone
The writers ply their trade.
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