What's the point of writing if nobody wants to read it?

What's the point of making art if nobody wants to see it?

I'm having trouble understanding why I should press on

When everything's been written and every idea is gone.

Is it just me or am I alone in thinking that this is inane?

I try, but I just overthink and it's driving me insane

There is no solution that I can see, my mind feels like pollution

And I'm trying to remember why I do the things I'm supposed to love.

This fight feels like an uphill battle, straight up an endless hill

I’m losing my vision, my motivation, my purpose and my will

Lost in a desert, a drought of creativity, my words can’t hold any sway

And so what’s the point, because no one will read this anyway.