Turn This Squeak into a Growl

if i'm hungry enough, i have to assume this won't break me,
that the walls of my stomach and my heart won't cave, that
my dream can keep feeding me.

extra letters at the end of my name,
the piece of paper at the end of the year--
it's more than this, more than you say.

don't tell me to shove this dream, break its jaw while you steal its money, 'cause
i'm here for the long haul, and it isn't getting away--

i'm here for the pen; i'm here for the page.
i don't care if i make minimum wage.

so, screw you and your advice; i'm through with being nice.

don't you worry. this dream will keep feeding me, keep me alive.