'' You Cant Criticize Me '' Poem by Bri Mar

My name is Critique, as a spirit I'm cold,
Your future is bleak, when I have you told,
What I say is true, in my own mind,
Though I may slag you off, retributions unkind.

I am always right, never wrong,
Whatever you recite, be it poem or song,
My view is final, you've no right to reply,
Though I can't do what you do, your work I'll decry.

With monetary persuasion, I'll administer praise,
On that rare occasion, your spirits I'll raise,
My words can destroy, even the best,
That I really enjoy, it fills me with zest.

What do I do, I hear you all ask?
Give you my review, then take you to task,
Comments you dislike, your reply I'll dispel,
At your heart I'll strike, then damn you to Hell.

When I read your work, it does make me jealous,
My criticism at times, can be over zealous,
But my views can determine, flop or success,
Your masterpiece I can leave, in a terrible mess.

I'm the ultimate being, so like it or not,
My views are all seeing, I will leave you distraught,
You must never forget, I'm a sensitive soul,
So don't make me fret, I could lose control.

My words are my bond, in my fantasy domain,
I take pleasure in driving, my audience insane,
What I say about some, is an utter disgrace,
But I don't have the courage, to say it to their face.

What you manufacture, you want others to enjoy,
But if truth be told, I just live to annoy,
Over the years, my arrogance has grown,
So, before you comment, no I can't write my own.

Reading your great work, with revenge I'm empowered,
So, I'm not just a jerk, I'm also a coward,
I've but one rule in life, on which you must agree,
Though I love causing you strife,

‘' You Can't Criticise Me ‘'