This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at SCAD ATL chapter.
Too little, the amount I write.
Too little, the money I make.
Too little, the family time I spend.
Too little, the chances I take
.
How would writing ease my troubled mind?
How could loose change fix my life’s sorrow?
How would hugging a relative soften the grind?
How should being careless make a better tomorrow?
Too much, the work I must do.
Too much, the distractions I must ignore.
Too much, the complaints I hear from you.
Too much, the risk of not being a bore.
Too many, the voices ordering me what to do.
Too few, the people grasping I do only what I can do.