Death of a Peot

how criticism affected a poet

He alone, from thought,
created a masterpiece.
He wore well the suit of pride
tailored to fit.
The joy of his accomplishment
spread from his heart, to his eyes,
and outward to others. Until.
The proverbial iron curtain fell upon him.
One who falsely claimed right to judgment,
pierced his soul with the very instrument
he had used to create his masterpiece.
The suit of pride slowly slipped from his now
deflated self, like snow from a rooftop.
Self-doubt plunged him into a pit of shame.
Never to pen again.
Never to understand.
That all thoughts, like snowflakes,
Are unique, and beautiful.
For who can claim rights to judge the beauty of
A snowflake???

The End

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