To Critics and Observers

I dust my denim daily,
To shake off your coy hatred,
When you say I’m bad at this
I often feel ill fated.

You applaud before the rhyme,
You hail when my name is called,
You’re there when I feel you’re not,
Your sharp eyes cuts my pen bald.

Tell critics they open doors,
Tell observers they clear paths,
They are both important, but
I dust my denim daily.

LARDO