Friday Night

It's Friday night
And yes I write
Like what else would I do
Since I'm a writer
No not for the pay
Because there ain't been the day
Where I wrote for that
Though I have sold my writing
I didn't sell much
And to say they read
That writing therein
Would sadly be
An untrue thing

Yet still I strive
Which makes some scoff
Because they don't see me striving
They just see me existing
And what kind of life is that

So this thing here
Serves as the perfect reminder
Not that I needed one
Of my life as a writer
I throw some words together
And no one cares

Though yes it's more
Than throwing them so
There is some craft involved
I cannot seem
To find my way
Like anywhere near
The good of success

It's Friday night
And yes I write
Like what but else
Would I be doing now
Well drawing yes
That's the thing 
I hope to do soon
But first and foremost 
It is the writing
I seek to do
Though it is true
That no one cares
Just look at the lack
Of any words
Of hey that's good
Or dude that's bad because
Even that would be
Some kind of good
Maybe I should
Just give it up 
Any shred of hope
Of my voice but being heard
As I share my gift of the word 

Charles Petrie

Date
07-12-2019

Time
23:27-23:48=21 Minutes

Word Count

236