Whiners
I write poems because it's fun
And I'm not the only one
It's an outlet for verbal expression
A hobby and not an obsession
I'm an amateur, not a pro
Thankful there's someplace to go
Where others like myself
Can write without seeking wealth
An opportunity for me to learn
Gain confidence in return
Friendly contests sharpen my skills
Winning is a personal cheap thrill
Not everyone feels the same
For people like me, that's a shame
They're always causing dissension
Complaining and seeking attention
In their high chair, they bang their spoon
Grown men crying childish tunes
The food that once filled their belly
To them is now tasteless and smelly
I say, find another place to eat
Let us amateurs compete
Nobody's making you stay
You don't play well with others, anyway
Bland food doesn't suit your palate
Over here you're wasting your talent
Why stay here and eat slop
Since your talent's so over the top
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016
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