The critic's joy, the writer's despair

A poem's a reflection of its owner's soul.
Written in part so he may be whole.
He writes

Critique

laughable, graspable

steeply inclined, bottom lines

deeply entwined, neatly signed

by royal riffraff

making splish-splashes

taki ng

Seems the harder I try,
the more you beat me down.
You never say what you think
once I turn around.
You mock me and hate
due

You stick your fat, ugly, jealous ass in my business
and expect me just to crawl away and submit to your demands.
Boy were

Don't steer the pen.
You don't know where its
been.

Pens witness different triumphs
and pains in life's lessons.
It's the pen