I have always wanted to be a writer.
I haven’t tried to read.
I love the Four Tops’ “Ain’t Too Proud Too Beg,”
yet never had time to plead.
I’ve eighty thousand pies,
but haven’t baked one cake
and you’d be shocked by how I dox
all the content I don’t make.
My first hand research’s second rate.
At least that I can admit
– and if in another way that I could be honest:
I couldn’t give a shit.
I critique with the best of them
– or the worst – from your point of view.
Sometimes, I wonder aimlessly
if there’s anything more to do?