Good poems are hard to find
Our opinions so often swayed
By the number next to it
Or the thought of the masses
Some great writings
Are only great
Because we think they are
And there in lies
The subjectivity of art
A beautiful thing
Not to be mingled with reality

Subjectivity is a foreign concept
To the Earth we inhabit
A nebulous thing
Birthed in the human mind
The world is as it is
All one can do
Is get closer to the truth
We are all simply
At different points
Along that journey
Indeed most never make it
Until they reach that place beyond

Subjectivity in art
Is something to be cherished
But keep it out of reality
Unless you wish the world about you
To fracture and crumble to dust