I am a writer of some sort
Not a poet like Edgar Allen
Not a novelist like Hemingway
Not an artist like Jill and Lauryn Hill
Or a lyricist like Drake
I'm neither skilled nor talentless I suppose
Juxtaposed, in a position I was froze
In the middle, not a pro
So what was it then I was told?
Sometimes greatness is never sold
But it appeared to me, as bright as gold
Clarity, a little bit of parody, and oh so bold
The texture of water refined in a drop
To be grown like a crop
What I am, is my soul and heart
