Narcissistic Artistic Poem by Mathew Lewis

After a while it’s just narcissistic!
Isn’t it?
All this time spent
Hoping to receive a few lines
Of appreciative patronage,
Or even: “I saw this...
...Now wouldn’t you mind seeing mine? ”
Each night silent searches
Yield more wanting verses,
Conceived, in no small part,
By the help of some vice.
But in each canyon-deep dream
That can live without sleep,
Comes a quietness
That needs no corner behind which to hide.
With the creation of things
Is also fostered the need
For recognition
Of the creator’s great deed.
For without this
His work becomes useless;
What good are his words
If his words don’t catch eyes?
So each night after night,
And time after time,
Will be spent, once again,
In search of his prize.
And though narcissistic,
For isn’t it really?
If something’s yielded,
He’ll forgive himself, his self-serving mind.