I paved a road to the inside of my brain
and you failed as a reader to place your steps
on the exact stones. You fell through the cracks
into a fairy land I never saw. Am I at fault, then,
for being a bad writer? No. You are at fault
for being a stupid reader. I paved a road
that you didn't follow. I wrote something
your small mind could not comprehend.
So what if you found a Ferris wheel to play on?
You were supposed to see the beauty
of my well-placed rocks.
I resent your wonderland delusions. I revoke
your ticket to the Imagination. You have nothing
to offer me as a Critic. You failed to see that I
am the God of Written Word.