No-one read my stories

I hear your pain, dear writer,

And the questions that you pose

Of why your stories go unread

And your talent no one knows.

The hours spent crafting each tale,

The sweat and tears you shed,

The passion and the heart you pour

Into every word you’ve said.

Yet still the pages gather dust,

And your words remain unheard,

The stories left to wither away

Like forgotten lines of verse.

But fear not, dear writer,

For your words hold great power,

And even if they go unread

They can still bloom like a flower.

Perhaps the world is not yet ready

For the beauty that you’ve penned,

Or maybe your stories need some time

To reach the right ears in the end.

Maybe your voice is just too quiet

In a world that’s loud and fast,

Or maybe the readers you seek

Are hiding in the shadows, waiting to be asked.

It’s easy to get discouraged

When no one seems to care,

But remember, dear writer,

Your stories are still there.

And whether they’re read by many,

Or by just a chosen few,

Your words have the power to move

And inspire something new.

So keep on writing, dear writer,

And know that you’re not alone,

For there are others out there listening,

Waiting to hear your tone.

Your stories may not be famous,

Or grace the shelves of bookstores,

But they’re still important, still valued,

And that’s what writing is for.

It’s not about the fame or fortune,

Or the praise that others give,

It’s about the joy of creation,

And the stories that you live.

So don’t give up, dear writer,

For your stories have a home,

In the hearts and minds of those who read them,

And that’s where they belong.