I think most writers have a dark day,
A day when the quill will not quiver,
Or a day where the work does not stir.
A day where you question your reasons,
Where no writing seems good enough,
And every day feels like the off season.
When you apply yourself endlessly,
And see nothing but a sea of rejection,
These are the hardest days to me.
No recognition from competitions,
Fading slowly and silently into obscurity,
Where you think your work ought to be.
Without some kind of recognition,
Writers so often loose their passion,
And see no point in carrying on.
Show appreciation to those you like,
Something to give that dopamine spike,
And let them know you are there and care.
©The Pesky Poet
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