My Big Shot?

I never thought I'd be the kind of person to sell my work without recognition and without a fight. I work for several different companies - some with by-lines - but mostly without. This poem simply illustrates my continuing struggle to come to grips with the ugly side of ghostwriting:

My Big Shot?

Ghostwriters - spread your wings
And fly away from silly things
Cause your voice is your own and no one can take it
Eventually we fall into place and make it

But until then - we swim through the muck
Some happen upon wealth by chance, by luck
While others bleed and sweat and tear
And deal with insecurities and fear

Ghostwriter - your wings are not clipped
Despite industry dips and drips
Of bullies and threats and Jeckyls and Hydes
Of egos and stubbornness and wounded pride

Where verbal attacks are backed by ill-informed action
For what -there is no real satisfaction?
Hiding behind a computer screen
Is the life of a freelance King or Queen...

Who sits upon a throne of dollars and cents
The struggling ghostwriter reluctant and spent
Lifts a weary head - too tired to debate
Too tired to reason with borderline hate

Tired of unreasonable requests
Of hearing the beat of a chest
Of snide remarks and snitches
Of promises of riches

Because in the end - what's it all about
If a freelance dictator takes your means to shout
And tramples your viewpoint, your opinion, your spirit
Without much patience to really hear it

Just consumed with anger, fire, and rage
Because you wouldn't fit into a neat little cage
And eat what you're fed whether you like it or not
Leave well enough alone, it's not worth it...

Big shot.