You put down words you think really good
But by others are they really understood?
The pain is the reality of growing old
Those pains in joints cannot be undersold
One day you're on the course shooting par
But does anyone believe your past feats in a bar?
That white streak in my hair the girls thought cute
That that is left is the same color I cannot refute
But the dream of being a writer has that too past me by?
Was my talent in my mind in reality just a lie?
Yes, self dought does visit now and then
Yet I must keep trying because those who quit never win
Of all the writer's in the world most have known rejection
But none come back thrown away never to see inspection
Is it for me to go through life and really never know fame
Or is it to try my best and fail that will be my shame
Self doubt you see visits me often not now and then
So if you feel the same keep writing some of us have to win