The Bad Poet

The good poet,
the bad poet.
Merely just the same.
The great poet,
the awful poet.
It’s just a plain card game.
The good poet plays a card,
then the bad one too.
And soon before you know it,
you bid the good adieu.
But then the great poet plays a card,
and the good poet next.
What happens then,
it’s insanely complex.
The great poet stands up,
waiting for the good.
But the good poet sits down,
in fact, they never stood.
The great poet smiles,
while in distress.
The good poet plays a card,
the great poet takes a guess.
The end is near,
for the oh, so great poet.
As the good poet knows this,
but is unwilling to show it.
In the card game of poets,
there’s only one true winner.
Of course, you all know,
it’s the bad poet, just a beginner.
Some might ask,
why has the bad poet won?
Well, because while the good and great poets were quarreling,
the bad and awful poets were having great fun.
And after awhile,
the good and great know.
They are now the bad and awful,
that just goes to show.
If you write poetry,
and you’re not having fun,
you’re the bad and awful poet,
you might as well be done.
And so the bad and awful turn,
into the good and great.
But not soon afterward,
they’ll be blasted with much hate.
So the bad and the awful, 
now in utter despair.
But where have they gone,
oh where, oh where, oh where?
The card game is done,
it’s all over and complete.
The card game is over,
it was such a great feat.
Oh, the good poet,
the bad poet.
Merely just the same.
Oh, the great poet,
the awful poet.
It was just a plain card game.