A Fight Is Rounds

There is a place inside my mind

Where regret lives alongside blame

Where an ugly troll called inner critic

Holds court deriding my every move

Who told you you could write?

This is shit all those pages

You should burn them

I rub my temples

I’m I’m

Not a quitter

A fight is rounds

No one said writing was easy

I roll another plain white sheet

Into the vanished typewriter

That is now a computer

With more functions than a damn

Wizard on steroids

I have to find the strength

No one ever asked me to be a writer

Writing is a calling no matter what the

Filthy little critic troll says

A fight is rounds.