For Money - poem
I spend another night, running on caffeine Crumpled papers fall, I'm like my own fiend. Eyes gaze into the light, I'm wondering Do I do this for love, or is it just for me? The door creaking as I enter my study, Oh, I wonder, do I do this for money?
Am I an actor, actor in my own tale? A writer, writing, so they don't see me fail? Dancing for the crowd in front of me, Maybe, all I do is for money?
Hours creeping by, sleep ain't in my eyes, Pen scraping on the paper I filled with lies. Sun rises high, but rest is last in mind, For art made of sweat and tears is like a prize. The chair is creaking, as I stretch back my body, They say I do all of this for money.
I am an actor, actor, in my own tale, Just writing, fighting, so they don't see me fail Dancing for the crowd with a gaze so keen, What if I do all this for money?
Maybe I do all this for money… But inside, I feel I can finally breath When I do what satisfies me, Even though some nights, I do worry.
So listen up, those who try to defy me. I don't care what you will try to be. I don't mind you standing in my way, 'Cause doing what I love isn't for my pay!