I'm not a good poet

dont I know it

my rhymes are childish and lame

and my convictions lack a proper 'flame' 

but when someone claims

to give me power

ill attempt to exploit it within the hour

because, if given a few half chances

i may be able to change the circumstances 

make all the tables turn

make all preconceptions burn 

with the friction of my descent

some think my writing is decent

i say it needs some work

now, go on, be a jerk.

if you tell me what I want to hear

there won't be any cheer

just a bigger table for me to write on 

if I can find the right one 

I'll write a symphony 

if someone will help me

and give me half a chance