Poets- you all think your good,
So unique- I call *******.
Trying to say your ideas are original,
When in reality they are just a bunch of regurgitated words from another visionary before.
That's right, your spewing of words once were, makes your breath  reak.
You taste someone else's thought,
Think if you chew it up and spit it back on a plate you can call it lunch.
When in reality, your serving warmed over left overs.
Unique? I think not.
Poets? Really are non existing
Dreamers, trying to pretend their situations are unique, maybe.
Or martyrs who think their lives should be the next big movie?
Now that's  more like it.
Tell me tour boring story, of your boring town. Wait!
Let me light a smoke and open a bottle first.
(I'm  gonna need it.)
There is nothing unique of love.
There is nothing  unique  of hate.
Oh, you had a rough life?
Well whoopty  doo!
Here, I present  the golden tear award for you.
Unique, *******!
Poetry- a cheap mask for the jokers ball.
A bunch of hand downs,
Washed and pressed.
So we can call them new threads
And try to impress one another.