Some people write, but rarely read,
That seems to me most strange indeed,
They've read less than a hundred books,
Yet think they imitate the looks,
Of Sassoon, Cummings, Keats and Pound,
Or think they imitate the sound,
Of Lennon, Dylan, or Shakur,
And sometimes think they've offered more,
Than Chaucer, Wilde or Shakespeare could,
And claim they're more misunderstood,
Than even Salman Rushdie was,
Which really ticks me off because,
After having read such wondrous works,
A sense of failure always lurks,
Inside me whenever I write,
Yet they think they've done well tonight!
I hate them all! That's it - I've said it!
But they won't know until they've read it,
Which is quite doubtful, I'd attest,
Who'd read my work and skip the best?
We're all guilty of thinking a little bit to highly of ourselves sometimes, especially when we've recieved a bit of praise for what we've done, and I'm certainly no exception. It feels good, and there's usually no harm whatsoever in it. It's nice to feel that way sometimes. Some people, however, take the biscuit.
Yes, Kanye West and Katie Price - I'm talking about you, among others.