Writing poems, without a GTM plan,
Polishing drafts, for an imaginary fan.
Sliding in a bottle, letting it drift away,
But hope is not a strategy, the wise men say.
Writing poems, without a business model,
Ads may grant peanuts, is it worth the coddle?
You can build an audience, can it earn you bread?
How dare you dream and cross, a line that is red.
Writing poems, without a rich bottom line,
You may earn some revenue, but does the cost seem fine?
To lap some crumbs, you have to mortgage your soul,
Address themes to their liking, constantly popular trope dole.
Writing poems, without a FnF round,
No investors to pressurize, so I make every poem count.
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