Oh, my dear, 'tis plain to see
That you lack Humility
Why must you whine o'er rugged rhymes,
That ill-affect your poetry?
Helping hands are hither slapped,
At a mere suggestion
In thine self, bruised ego wrapped
When thy work is questioned!
Begrudge, me not, the better Poet:
I was right, and both we know it!
*I SPIT FIRE CONTEST ENTRY