This poem was inspired by the writing prompt “free,” and it led me to explore a side of creative work that doesn’t get talked about enough — the uncomfortable pressure to trade genuine art for fleeting attention. I wanted to capture the tension between offering something with true generosity and the hollow feeling that comes from being expected to bait or bargain for it.
This piece grew out of that frustration, but also from a deep belief: the right words find the right people.
No tricks. No gimmicks. Just the work speaking for itself.
They said:
Give it away. Hook ’em. Reel ’em in.
I said:
I give because I mean it. I don’t bribe with bait.
Still —
I danced.
Tossed free pages like confetti,
painted my stories neon,
waited for the slow trickle of clicks.
Free —
a beautiful thing, twisted wrong.
Not a handshake — a hustle.
Not a gift — a gimmick.
Click here, they say.
Download your soul.
No thanks.
I’ll write for the wild ones,
the seekers,
the souls who stumble in
because the words called them,
not because I waved shiny junk.
Give, you must. Beg, you must not.
If it costs me the crowd?
Good.
I’ll build a fire for the few
who actually came to get warm.
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