Someone Woke Up Pretentious

I couldn’t hear the scream

But it was birthed from my throat

Who are you to tell me that I shouldn’t devote-

You don’t get a vote-

on what I do with my time

You can dislike every poem I’ve written

But it’s not your place to decide

whether or not I continue to write

You woke up with a lot of fucking nerve today

Crying Adult Baby

Bold of you to assume your opinion matters to me,

Stranger

Bold of you to laugh when I say you’re wrong,

Deceiver

Bold of you to speak to me as if I’m a misbehaving child,

Mocker

I don’t have to make money off of everything;

that makes life worth living

I won’t lie and say I don’t love money

But making money is what my day job is for,

Fickle lover,

I adore words

and language,

and the knowledge that

There is more to life

So much wonderful more

Than death

and taxes

and whatever trends are

I easily predict and imagen

That if you took the time,

Bold Jester,

You would definitely find,

My meaning,

In painting, or writing, or dancing, or sculpting-

In building and creation

Molding materials in your hands like God

Because for the first time in your life

You’d discover magic among modern times

You’d finally understand artists and craftsmen

You’d be one of us too

I dare you to prove me wrong

I’m willing to wager

you’ll admit I was right

all along