The cynic, the wit, the optimist, the romantic and the observer.

Sitting there,
in a bar with
the aspiring
writers of
the next
generation,
I, W.L.W drinking
a vodka
mixed absinthe
the cynic
producing
piece after
piece, all
of the
same quality,
never really
varying
and then
there is
the romantic
K.M who
drinks a cider
and
writes
passionately,
whose
only flaw
was her
confidence,
the lack
of it,
she was
one to
write
and erase
write
and erase
while witty
C.R
drinks
a cup cake
cocktail
and
just stares
at a blank
page, imagines
it in her
mind and
doesn't write
anything
because its
all up here,
and thats
a beautiful
thing but
one cant
write if
they can't
bear the
struggle
of pushing
pen on
paper
with sticky
liqueur hands
and
then theres
C.P-W who
drinks whisky,
the clever
optimist
writing
things never
seen, but making
it seem
more
like
song lyrics
in a book,
and
honestly
he'll never
sell because
he's general positivity
isn't profitable;
In the fray
of these ideas
sits the
versatile
C.E who is
watching,
drinking
a long
island ice
tea
and listening
to everyone
and taking
it
all
in,
C.E has
no real
flaw except
of her
admiration
for us,
and that
scares me.


All aspiring writers,
sitting in a bar, like
the others before
them, trying to sort
out the next project
and the next pay check,
all with a niche or a knack
but with the way luck works
only one can make it

and the ones
with the biggest
flaws often
try
the
hardest.