The mind, still puzzled, asks: was I the moron, or was it you?

This is a long overdue poem
about people who
commission real artists.
And, ultimately aren’t respectful
to themselves,
to the artist,
to the art.
If you aren’t going to pay,
then don’t make up excuses — 
it’s completely out of taste.
A real promise was made.
Look up commission first,
then commission.

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