Your intellectuality burns me, turns me off
Then puts a distance
Between me and your poetry
Of course I recognise, I have heard
Of the inferiority complex, and what she can muster
That harbinger and buster of angst unclaimed
Shame they say is thrust
By our child abusing a muse in your cloisters
Did you play that game too
Showing off to the weak and the lonely
Taking advantage, but missing the feeding of you
Snapshots, crackpots abide with the simple few
Hey, I say; get back to where you once belonged
If such a place, should
In your present reality, still exist
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