Hindsight Bias

Someone asked me in an interview, a perplexing question,

If you were to travel 10 yrs in future, and on all steps you won,

What's the future self you are living, how at a party you'll introduce,

I could only think of as a poet- someone who'll daily produce.

 

Then they asked me to think, after 10 yrs a poet I'm not,

I belong to the dead poets society, have been left to rot, 

They invited me to think, why as a poet I never took off,

And list reasons why I failed, why on my poems people scoff.

 

I laboriously reasoned, why as a poet I couldn't be renowned,

Maybe I didn't write for the galleries, maybe the gatekeepers frowned,  

Maybe the security of a job, kept me amateur at this craft,

Maybe I realized there is no money, maybe I was not that daft.

 

When I look back in hindsight, I know why I'm no poet still,

I may find a scapegoat, but it wasn't about how to pay the bill.