I am my own person,
One with my own personality.
But just what is the reason,
For the visions I see - is this my creativity?
I write, I read, I joke,
But is this really the way I should choose?
Or do I want to go my entire life feeling empty and broke?
With a job hanging tight around my neck, like a noose?

I balance like a ballerina,
On the tip of a career scale.
This way or that?
Should I wear a beret or a top hat?
Settling the age old argument in this arena,
I have come so far with my tale.

My life has twisted and turned into this,
A beautiful forest of stories,
A place of sheer bliss.
Somewhere they deliver my groceries.

For I am in my element.
I am comfortable right here.
Reading books and writing too.

I am a writer.

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