Oh, To Be A Writer.

We hope a little too much,

Love a little longer,

Cry a little harder,

And walk, just a little farther.

We give in a little easier,

Give up a little faster,

Hang on to each memory,

And wish upon every falling star.

We are romantics,

Tragic all the same.

We would kill for love

And die for humanity,

We run to them

Like a moth to the flame.