My Harsh Life

This poem is in ABAB form (except for that sad, last line). It has 100 words, as most of my other works.

I am an actual English author,

and am also an also an artist.

It is sad if my works bother:

for I am never the smartest.

While I like to write, draw, and edit,

I still indeed feel dumb, very bitter.

My projects do actually need credit:

at times, I literally feel as a quitter.

Because it is hard to gain any attention,

I really feel like I am actually invisible.

It is difficult for me, to be mentioned:

my whole life seems really fictional.

It is truly hard for me to live,

so I feel foolish at many times.

Reviews

[Lovecraft]

Pretty good. Those last lines might seem morbid or dark to some but I find them refreshingly honest to admit that Life is difficult and sometimes Life is a cruel, fickle and capricious thing.

The second line "and am also an also an artist." Is that a mistake or was it intentional?

Overall it's a good poem and I enjoyed the last lines especially. Good job.

[Lovecraft]

Lol, I had a feeling it was intentional, just wanted to know for sure.

[ThisVivian]

Thank you~! :)