I sit here,
Typing away,
Hearing each stroke,
and I think to myself.
What a foolish dream,
To be a poet,
A poet from Kentucky.
Whoever heard of such?
My mind reminds me,
Each day, a whisper.
Whoever heard of such?
I accept that reality,
The one where,
My words are wasted away.
I know I may never become,
A poet from Kentucky,
I am just a man from Kentucky,
With outrageous dreams.
Yet, I am proud,
For what I am.
A man from Kentucky,
With wild dreams,
because it is better than,
A man from Kentucky,
with no dreams at all.