Someone criticised
a story of mine today.
I took it well - outwardly,
but inside my demons conspired
to seek out the critic,
the poison pen prick,
and beat him to death
with a thorny stick.
Later in court, in my defence,
after the beating,
after the critic's
pleading and bleating,
I'll look at the judge,
all bewigged and becurled
and state one less critic
is a service to the world.
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