Self-Taught Dilettante

Photo by Kari Shea on Unsplash

Frost and Poe, the greatest swans

To name a few, hidden underground

Their unspoken malice, professionals’ rants

Unskilled dabbler, so they’re called

For they wax poetic, rather than pointedly

When driven and beaten to creativity

By those men who wear a smug

And if my last words were dictated

And I were gagged beyond my reasoning

And forced to entrench behind the truth

Still, at all cost, these, I would owe the self —

The most precious thing in existence

“I am, but a dilettante wayfarer in search of Truth”

If these were my last words, I’d die barefooted.

Thanks for your readership, always.

I acknowledge all comments.

https://lollyheart.medium.com/

Always remember: it gets better. 😊
© LollyHeart.