Hypocrite

“Get to work,” I hear you say,
“You haven’t drawn a mark all day!”
And so, at your concerned request
I start to draw, (I do my best)
To liken you; (in graphite form)
Upon the paper, art is born.
But woe! I strike a pose, and then
You halt my progress, on a whim;
(To relegate your current piece)
To aid your muse now I must cease!
You criticize my sloth progression;
(Yet enable my obsession)
With your eyes and gaze; (unfair!)
Into my own you seem to stair,
While under ruse of doing art,
(To hypocrite belongs my heart)