"very good" they wrote
i nearly ripped the paper to bits and
threw it in their god-forsaken faces
"very good" makes my blood turn, slice, and seep from my wrists
i'd rather die than see those words again--or lack of words

even "excellent" is not enough anymore
(enough, like anything has ever been enough)
i crave Perfection,
i sink down to my grimy knees and crawl agonizingly
towards Perfection
forever destined to fall into its pits and
extinguish in the blink
of
an
eyelash

greatness.
i want--
greatness or nothing.

i want my name to be known for millennials to come
my footsteps to be recognized by the youngest fawn
the crowds to step aside and bask in my flawlessness
the shape of my lips, hips, fingertips memorized to the very vein

poets to sing verse after verse until blood comes up instead of music
soldiers to **** and torture for the simple hope of meeting my eyes
kings to deem me the Ideal, the Best in front of all pitiful peasants
lovers to cut into their own chests to confide me their hearts

for,
if my light were to be a dying ember left on the side of the road,
and a child picked me up to smooth their fingers on my sharp edges
giggles and smiles at the flickers of sparks lighting inside me
tuck it in their pockets, and be loved every day for as long as i live

no--
that would not be nearly quite enough.

Who are you boy?
Lost in your own mind,
Get on out of there!
You're missing the best parts of life,
Stop thinking for a few,
Just drop everything and do.
Nothing on this earth can stop you,
After all, you've got creativity, love, and roots,
What more do you need in order to be great?

The fire rises ominously,
transcending boundaries-
engulfing pieces of shredded
papers written lovingly.

There are things important to me,
That many people today will find silly,

This is one of those,
To be a writer,
To write great poetry,

To have that poetry read in classrooms,
To have it read in lecture halls,
That it will be read in fire lit living rooms,
That it will reach the ears of the youth,

----- ----- ----- -----

I find this important.

If they doubt I'm so young,
But simply agree with the rest,
Does that mean I've finally reached a point,
Where I am so good,
There's only up?
Or will I come crashing down,
Is youth my key to fame,
Will they still read me when I grow old,
And this number fades away?
When my hair thins and grays,
Will my name?
Or will I pave my way to legacy?
My ink has a clock,
I'm afraid of it ticking down.

If I could teach you one thing,
It would be how to keep pushing.
Because when the world is looking,
They're looking at the one still going.

You can be great,
If you can wake up and tell yourself,
'I am greatness, I am here for a reason, I am the next big thing.'

Abbott J Hardison
             e
             e
             z
I think I disappoint my family,
Every time I Be abbreviating my middle name.
                       u
                       t
At least I'm working to get my name known,
So when I sign 'J.' people will wonder what it is.