Am I the only poet that bothers you?

I hate your poetry and your stories too
Poetry is too vague and too  unclear
Why tell me this  when I am feeling blue?

Am I the only poet that bothers you?
Does Shakespeare’s writing fill your heart with fear?
He hates my poetry and my stories too

Critics ignore mood and suffering’s clue
A half thought is a nonsense,that is clear
He tells me this  when I am feeling blue

Use the means to find the ending true
Do not labour so that you can smear
She hates my poetry and my stories few

I’ll be what you intend if you are you
For truthfulness can in its way  endear
He tells me lies  but one day he will rue.

In our life the unknown source will steer
To us it’s feared, to him it’s always clear
Irate  with poetry; gored by stories too
Why tell me this  when I am feeling you?