Copied from immaterial;
"Am I an artist yet?
Am I a genius?
Please tell me when it’s time
I’m waiting for one of you to treat me like some sort of child
king.
When will you see me for what I am?
When will you recognize me for my greatness?"

I boldly love myself so well,
clearly a satire, but still plainly truthful
because
something fired right in my head,
something painfully truthful because I still deserve something.
Will you coddle me like the child I am?
or will you leave me like the man I pretend to be?
Can you really leave me be in forest full of beasts?
really, can you?