Dear writer,
Simply said from pen, paper, words,
No one can do what we do,
No other art can be highlighted from words of heart,
To live and write,
From the simple entice of life,
The gift of insight and mastery of language,
More than word of mouth and tongue,
‘Cause we have the ability to rock
Accessorize and strut in what we say,
We’re more than gifted word play;
We’re well worded science with game.
So writer,
Never let someone bring you down,
For enjoying the beauty of description.
They’re not poet enough for self-expression,
Not writer enough to speak in metaphor,
An empty lyric with no leading hook,
Nothing more than a challenge to over-write,
For how can we be touched?
We live in past participles, contractions,
And exquisite vocabulary.
Never speechless
Always with words from what we saw;
Bet they never made a blank page go raw.
So write fucker,
No matter how unenthused they may be,
Remember what you can do with words alone,
Never forget what you live for,
For we are gifted with something so simple.
Let them chase after the complex,
But we’re made to be a little more modest,
For who else can effect affect with prose?
Not the scientists of the world.
So you write ‘cause you must,
Our secondary form of lust,
You write for the sake to live,
We are more than enough;
Who needs them?
It’s our passion to love.
-Marco
