I questioned myself,
Why hasn't my work been seen?
No answers came, so I turned to the screen.
The truth I found, though hard to digest,
The quickest way to be noticed is through death.
Umberto Eco, Italo Calvino, too,
Fame came only when life was through.
Books written years ago, in vain,
But posthumous fame—their work now acclaimed.
The readers? Still the same.
The genre? Unchanged.
But something in death makes a name rearranged.
Guilt lingers, a silent regret,
*Why didn't we read when they still drew breath?*
Now we praise what we overlooked,
Claim wisdom in those final books.
But it’s not the words that changed at all,
It's just human nature’s fatal flaw.
YOU ARE READING
When Writers Die "Book ONE"
Historia CortaWriter's tend to come to fame after they die... This is why Note: this book is in no way I repeat "IN NO WAY" encouraging writers or anyone to unalive themselves to get to fame or become noticed, as long as your work is good and you keep putting in...
