He’s not to be admired,
The artistic creative.
No hard work’s required,
It’s not quite where fate lives.

He may stand tall in his mind,
In his accomplishments wide.
But in envy we live,
To stand by his side.

He tricked it.
The system, I mean.
To stick to cliches
We’re cogs in machines.

But he’s seen the absurd.
He’s seen us.
He’s seen how we fight,
How we ****,
How we plead for our lives.
He’s seen how we wish,
With but hope at our sides.

He’s seen the machine,
And he knows it eternal,
For we won’t leave it.
We’d rather burn all

Our books and our toys
And the idea of maturity.
Before we stand alone,
And give thought some purity

No.

He’s not to be admired,
The Artistic Creative.
But despite our hard work,
He found where fate lives.