An Exhaustive Search

Praise Seeker

I meet this person
Who claims to be the best,
Better than the rest,
And he can't stress
It enough to everyone
That he isn't to be trivialized,
But when I contest
His claims, he can't think of a valid reason
As to why anyone
Should praise him.

He thinks he deserves fame,
It's one thing to think such things,
But to have the nerve
To say it with no way
To back it up is a shame.

He must think he is smart,
That he has the heart
To conquer everything in his path;
Where can I even start
On explaining how his foolish
Behavior will make his popularity perish?

What are his accomplishments?
Does he even receive compliments
For his sense of entitlement?
To me, what he says are merely rants,
Such stupid events
He causes that are nonsense.

When I see him write poetry,
All I see is his irrationality
Bleeding through each paper,
Not any piece different from each other,
Just a bunch of garbage
Filled with his rage.

What good thing has he written?
I don't see any poem
Worthy of publication;
In fact, just by staring at them,
I want to crumble these papers
And throw them to the trash.

There's no originality,
Just ideas he copied
From popular poets
Just to get
Into equal grounds
With the greatest people.

It's no wonder he has no friends,
It's such attitude that lends
Him his fate,
For what he does dictates
The outcome of his actions.

If only he could see the light,
It would make all the difference
To his very situation,
Which would yield consequences
He'd be pleased by.

So, I write him a letter
Telling him to get his act together,
'Cause believe it or not,
I see potential for greatness,
Which can only be unleashed
If he forgets about popularity
And writes as a passion.