I read a lot of self-proclaimed brilliance
From poet’s old and young.
I don’t get it.
No-one ever said
Poetry would be easy.
They said it would be worth it.
In failing absence of acclaimed credit,
My own declaration of genius suffices.
My self 5 star review
“A poet messiah amongst mortals”.
Amongst my tawdry tat those
Of polished glass fakestones –
My blood stained thorn crown.
Beyond that rugged hill,
There’s Little Me, hiding, frightened
Behind a bookcase,
Threatening to get my Dad on you
If you don’t like my words.