To write means to live twice, 
One harder and the other hardest, 
With none to motivate,
And none to sympathise, 
With only a clueless soul to guide,
Hoping no fame or applause,
But framing a story line to tell,
The hard work, sweat going futile,
Yet, the idiot, he writes,
B'cause he only knows to write,
None to aid, none to drive,
He drives till the dead end meets.