I don't want your tyranny
There's no room for it in my life
Often wonder how you can't see
That there isn't need for unwanted strife

You say I portray one misunderstood
And yet I don't care about what one says.
Your analysis serves your own good
In some hopes my hackles be raised

I pen out art for art's sake
Not to be famous, not in the least
I do this for my own hunger to slake
And to beat out this beast

I could endlessly expound upon it
But this poem's done up in a sonnet.