To be a Poet

To be a poet is to wrestle with time In the digital age, where words don't chime The poet's lament in a world so vast, Do my verses linger, or vanish fast A poetic conquest, a rhythm’s climb To find words that can rhyme with time How tiresome it can be, to live the days of my youth Writing poems in my empty suit, and whispers of bygone truth In the corridors of dental lore, I tread A broke entrepreneur, dreams yet to be fed Amid textbooks and drills, life's heavy chime My solace found in verses, this escape sublime Entrepreneurial dreams in a student's guise In the world of molars and incisors, where time flies Bills pile high, dreams tucked in a rhyme To be a poet, my refuge in life's paradigm In scrubs and loans, a young entrepreneur's plight Dental drills may hum, but my heart seeks to write I navigate the grind, a poetic mime In the silent spaces between each line To be a poet, where ink meets the page A sanctuary sought in a scholar's cage Broke, but rich in the verses I climb In the echoes of stanzas, where dreams align A dance of cadavers and financial stress Yet, in poetry's arms, I find my rest To pen the struggles, the journey's clime In the verses crafted, a personal paradigm