What happened to the writers?

by Ralkkai

What happened to us?
What happened to the writers?
What happened to the word-smiths of my time
stuck in that rhythm and stuck in that rhyme?
When did it become a pissing match to see
who the Alpha male of pansy ass writers would be,
the ones who hide behind computer screens and
spout off at the mouth like some self-satisfied adolescent without needs?
It was once about the mere movement of words
The painting of spaces and putting letters on paper and internet places.
If someone can’t express themselves as an individual just because you
don’t like the fact that they don’t write just like you
what does that make you? Refined, the Poe of our time? Caught up in the line
furthest from pompous and closer to divine?
Maybe next time, when someone decides to express themselves in words
try accepting that they aren’t yours and that maybe someone has something to say
that isn’t yours.
The thing of it is, this was supposed to be a collection of ideas
like books on bookshelves, like text books and philosophies, or a movie on a tv screen.
But now it doesn’t fit into your scheme of things. Your fucking scheme of things.
Makes you wonder what the real problem is.
Instead of being a common denominator in a art form meant for words,
maybe you should count your blessing that at least your comments provoke emotion
because your lyrics sure as fuck don’t.

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