The title doesn't fit,
This poem is a mess!
The whole world is a critic,
They think there is a 'best'.
I'd love to put them in a room,
And make them play a game,
Where every answer comes out "no",
And all things are the same.
If I asked,
They wouldn't come,
This party probably won't be fun,
But you're invited anyway,
Go ahead and stay all day,
It's only you and me.
That may just be,
Because a bird,
So little and so small,
Told them if they were to come,
The game wouldn't be very fun,
Because if I were to lose, I'd punch them in the face.
- a chronically sore loser
