A One Poem Wonder?

My failures don't define me, if no one publishes my book,

I'll simply post on my blog, and dangle on social media some hook. 

Lack of readers doesn't deter me, from pouring my heart each day,

I treat that as my personal therapy, to keep ennui at bay. 

 

My success won't define me, if my book is on the bestseller shelf,

It won't transform me overnight, I'll still be my old, next-door self. 

I'll take sweet time to write afresh, not drown in the weight of a sequel,

What the fans expect will shape it much -  I'll only write if I contribute equal. 

My mediocrity doesn't define me, I don't care if my poem imperfectly rhymes,

As long as it conveys my emotions, and shows a mirror to the existing times. 

I don't need to write on universal themes, I'm happy capturing the mundane,

There's beauty to be found in the ordinary, no puns or word plays are inane.

My genius shouldn't define me, I'm much more than my masterpiece,

I'm the drafts that came before it, and the variations that will never cease.