my poetry hides in every crevice of the appalachian mountains

it is disregarded, unburned, and abandoned in ghostly, old coal mining towns

it is buried in the scolding sand on virginia beach

my words can be found so easily, as they've been said before

my art is in every school garbage can, found beneath soiled apple cores and hidden bad grades

it is waiting, evolving, and gathering knowledge of what it is like to be "not good enough"

it is hung in every art gallery, from new york to cali, no, from japan to italy

my visuals can be found if they are looked for, but they never have been before

so when you ask me for my work to be placed in comparison

to the only artist you crave

i feel my mind bend, and i feel my heart break

i have faced rejection enough to know if i can place

this unclaimed competition is unfair and i'm sure you can feel my chest's ache

through the vibration of my notification

from your phone in your hands, though they dare not even shake

at the expense of my own worry

if this is about art and what you truly want to admire

it's another's heart --but my body works as a great substitute

so hang a photo of me and let's be realistic about all of this

you want quick endorphin release, not substance