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.

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