Ten O’clock Ramblings

Ten O’clock Ramblings

By Robert C Price

 

 

I wake up each morning

completely aware that I

am a fraud

A shyster

Con artist

Who in their right mind,

or any mind for that

matter, would think that

I’m a writer

An author

A novelist

(of course you have to actually write a novel for that last part,

but for the sake of arguing, we’ll include it)

I mean, what have I written that’s made

a difference in this big nasty world

How can I call myself one

The word has been bestowed on countless

others who are worthy of the title

See, I’m a guy who took too long

To figure out who he is

Hell, who am I kidding?

I haven’t come to any conclusion of who

I really am

Don’t mind me, I’m rambling about

this and that and still trying to live

up to the title.

Am I a writer?

Stupid question

I am who I am because I have no

other way to express me

To get my point across

To show you my thoughts and

ambitions

I can’t talk feelings

I can only put them on paper

or a LED screen for you to

examine and deem worthy

of the title, but I already know

the answer.

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