Turning Pro

I am a fool, who loves to write,

No compulsions, the mood is light.

Flitting between, one form and the other,

Tinkering on the surface, never digging further. 

I am a fool, who toils to write,

The mood is sombre- filled with plight.

Contorting to fit, in the given form,

I struggle and suffer, to break from the norm.

No more a fool, I dare to write,

The mood is jubilant- I've won the fight.  

Mastering a form, churning sonnets at will,

To rise like a phoenix, was a journey uphill.

 

Up and onward, I should have turned pro- on the way to be the best,

Another 'sonnet', I shoot myself in the foot- back to the fool's quest.