Discouraged

I can never be a writer,
As words are not my skill;
I scribble and I scrawl,
But constantly hit a brick wall.

With no cheering on my team,
I may as well pack in my dream.
No one to cheer or give advice,
I may as well be counting rice.

With no encouragement,
And nothing to inspire;
I may as well crumple my pages,
And toss them in the fire.

For years and years I’ve really tried,
But to no avail;
It seems everything I write,
Is bound to fail.