What if they died?
What if that artist
Who painted their works
So great, yet shunned
For personality quirks
What if that singer
Who hit impossible notes
Wasn’t caught up in drama
Or the brunt of your jokes
What if you focused
On content they write
Instead of the bullshit
The cheap and contrite
Why is it, so often
An artist, who yearned
Must die to achieve
The recognition they’ve earned
It isn’t the painter
Whose genius, they leave
It’s ego that chains us
A jealous reprieve
For when you are dead
You’re no threat to us
So sure, we can like you
Just stay off of my bus
Some day, I do hope
The people will see
That passion is living
And envy is greed
