The angry young man writing poetry furiously
Demands and implores to be taken so seriously,
And the people who read him laugh and ignore
Him, insult and abuse him and call him a bore.
Their words cannot stop him, he knows he's a hero,
Despite their attempts to paint him a zero.
Only he has been blessed with such sensitive seeing
And painful experience of the darkness of being.
Only he with his pen can tell them the truth,
Of the anger, the pain, and the wisdom of youth.
He will forge in his soul a work of such splendor;
They amaze at the beauty and truth it will render.
For his is an artistry that none can compare,
His style, his substance, his talent so rare.