Wannabe

I attempt to scribble each day,
Ever since I met Shakespeare I wanted to write,
Since I broke bread with Lovecraft,
Was lectured by Nietzsche,
Sipped fresh tea across from Austen,
I longed to put my soul to paper,
Their work is a literary blueprint,
One that I follow poorly,
My pen is a crayon in comparison,
Macaroni art to their opuses,
Put on the fridge by an indifferent clientele,
Stood beside those greats,
Those mavens,
I am a wannabe,
Playing at authorship,
Faking it and not making it,
A nobody.