A poet’s worst enemy,
A thief’s best friend.
Your work or an idea gets stolen from you,
Pulled out from underneath you,
By someone you’d least expect.

There’s this ache in your chest,
It really hurts,
Your brain child has been kidnapped,
And claimed by another.
You tell people about it, pointing at the culprit,
But try as you might they believe him over you.
He’s more reputable after all, you’re just an amateur writer.

And it hurts because he’s walking away with your baby,
You’re so upset that you write about it too.
You kinda wish you hadn’t told anyone now.
Everyone thinks you’re just looking for attention.
“A phony” they call you, insulting your works they once praised.

One day though, he’ll get what he deserves,
You’ll eventually outshine him or he’ll lose all his purchased followers,
At least you’ve learnt now not to interact with shady accounts.
And to treasure your work, hiding it from thieves.
Thieves that wish to claim it all for themselves.

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Though the poem above is completely fictional, I did recently have one of my ideas “recycled” by a judge in a writing competition. It seems like I’m over exaggerating but I just have this feeling that he/she got the idea for a sample story from my entry.

So that incident inspired this poem. It’s kinda short but I think it passes the message perfectly. Thanks for reading

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