It’s all very well

To call yourself a writer

But are you a writer if nobody reads your stories?

Or just a tree falling in the forest.

Are you a hero if there’s no applause?

Are you a victim if you shrug it off?

Are you beautiful if nobody loves you?

Or are you just a fucking log.

It’s all very well

To speak in an empty theater and call yourself an orator

To sing Madame Butterfly to the stars

To argue with yourself and win every time.

If you don’t mind the silence

You can call yourself anything.