Listen, critic, please understand

Read these words, and watch my hand

You joke about these poems I write

You say they’re rigid, and won’t take flight

Let me explain one thing to you

You clearly don’t get what I do

My words are raw, they don’t need flair

And honestly, I do not care

I do not care for what you say

Your shallow waters dry this bay

You have no substance, nothing to tell

You only care for things that sell

Hear these words, and hear them clear

I do not give a fuck, you hear?

I honestly could not care less

I write from what’s within my chest

You may not get that, yeah, I know

Because your ilk is so shallow

But let me help you understand

Art is pain, it’s impact, grand

True artists do not work to sell

They care for stories that they tell

They pour their hearts on canvas, page

And create wonders with their rage

So spare me your critique, you hack

You’re mad we have the things you lack

Passion, patience, minds of gold

Now shut your mouth – do what you’re told

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