That Mystifying Subject

Pardon my brequivolence, But I won't put on a ruse. With honesty I'll rhyme; With luck I'll amuse. Poetry is not my life; It's not my passion Or my cause. Right now I'm compelled to submit A poem, as luck would have it. I write poetry because I want to learn. To get my Master's Degree is what I yearn. I love poetry in its own right; I'm just not a poetress, (though my attempts are alright). But I do need $1000 To pay my college fees. I value honesty and enjoy this contest But to win would render me pleased. There are those out there who write to live. They write to thrive, they write to give. My position amongst is bordering on low, My chances of winning are slim, I know. But my mother saved nothing For my higher education. Attending school penniless Is her wild aberration. So I'm slogging through these scholarships Doggedly, one by one. Hoping, somehow, to be chosen So my dreams will not be undone.