Screaming At The Sky While I Sign My Book Deal

Oh look, you’re still there, gnashing your teeth,
Spitting my name like it’s stuck underneath.
Clawing at shadows, screaming my sins,
While I’m out here collecting my wins.

You rant, you rave, you rewrite the past,
As if your sad tantrums are built to outlast.
But hate to inform you (not that I care),
I’m soaring through life while you choke on the air.

I wake up to coffee, to pages, to peace,
You wake up to grudges that never cease.
I build with my hands, with words, with grace,
You rot in the ruins of your own disgrace.

You wanted me broken, you wanted me small,
Yet here I am thriving—biggest flex of them all.
You tell your sad stories, you peddle your lies,
But my books sit on shelves while you sit there and cry.

My name’s in print, my words are adored,
While yours get ignored, dismissed, and abhorred.
You froth at the mouth, you seethe, you combust,
While I sign on the line and turn dreams into dust—
(Not mine, of course. I’m living the dream.
But yours? Oh babe, they were never a thing.)

So go on, keep ranting, keep shaking your fist,
Keep choking on all the success that you missed.
Your hate is the fuel that powers my flight—
While you scream at the sky, I soar out of sight.