It may not be healthy to hold out
Any hope that I may not have sold out–
I’ve abandoned my roots,
Sent my pride down the chutes;
My reception? We’ll just say that it’s chilly.
These rhymes started off as a candid
Means to show off the words I commanded.
I’d pull off the affair
With remarkable flair,
And give my readers just what they asked for.
But now, as my ego grows frail,
I realize that my rhymes have grown stale.
I’ve become quite the whore,
And my words are a bore,
But I’m glad I could tell you my story.