I’ve wrote poems for years on forgotten scraps of paper,
but I finally lent them to other eyes.
Initially they were well liked and granted me so much pride.
But did you know a picture is more valuable?
Oh yes, a photo outweighs my best words.
The second long snap of a camera accompanied by the button-pressing finger,
both add up to something far greater than any of the captured thoughts I’ve printed.
Why was I never told it didn’t make a dent to pour my heart and soul?
There was never a true competition really.
I mean, how could I compare to the color of an image when my dumb letters always read black and white?
I dipped my writing-pen into the bloody ink of my heart,
but the writing still holds less color than a picture.
I didn’t feel the need to rhyme with the mess I’ve scribbled this time.
Why put more than a second’s effort when the camera would never need to?
My motivation has been squashed almost entirely so I resent the cap and lens.
How many pages would it take to even measure equal to a photo?
I’ll never bother giving so much when the photographer gave so little.
Ten of my poems are worth one point less than seven pictures,
but if the lazily produced image outshines what I’ve transposed from my mind,
then so be it.
My writing was never meant to be casually thrown about pieces of content anyway.
I just figured it’d be worth more than two points

Editor’s note: The Journalism class has a grading system that awards a higher grade for a photo used in a Sting story than a poem.