What gives you the right to judge my work,
my words, the message in these lines?
What gives you the right to judge what I write;
the chaos in my mind?

Does the rage inside my heart scare
your fragile being?
Or, are the pictures I create too much
for your virgin eyes to be seeing?

How can you place others before me
when I should have a voice, too?
Why can't you give us each a chance
to make our own selves the fool?

Do you not understand me?
Am I going too fast for you?
Am I pulling out the rabbits too quick for you to catch,
or do you not care to?

I'm an insatiable person, yes,
I do realize this fact,
but do you realize you affect us all
with such a simple act?

By shunning one to the side,
you never give them the time to rise,
or show the glory to all the masses
of having such a unique prize.

Let us all have a chance to 'speak'
the words that flow from our tips.
These words that come from our hearts
not always fall from our lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wrote this poem in retaliation to my school "Etalage" where they publish students poems and stories to the rest of the school. I had entered two of my poems, and they 'rejected' them. I didn't think it was fair to judge anothers work when all they want is a chance for others to see their talent. Obviously, it upset me and at three in the morning, during the following summer, I remembered this incident and wrote the poem you just read. So, yeah.