EnvyIt pounds at my prideAs I realize I do not possessThat wicked skill Which he freely demonstratesHe doesn't go insane with shadingHe doesn't make it overly complicatedThe piece is simple, fresh, and creativeQualities that mine seem to lackHe works on it every daySlowly but surlyIn the desk beside meNever running out of ideasI look at mine in disdainThey are pieces of trashI may be able to crank out dozensYet none compare to his oneI feel competition for the placeThat the winner of the cover art shall takeNot for the hundred dollars involvedBut for the honor of having your heart shown to the world
ManlyPeople always sayThat crying is unmanlyThis is not soFor weeping from lossOr emotion beyondThe typical rage And flaming arroganceOf a manIs truly an act of honestyTears of truth And stripped humanityAlong Justice's sliced handPlease, I implore youTo open your eyes Soak in the factThat it takes a personTo man upTo bow downAnd weepFor all that has once been.