Here, I believe, is his situation:

From an early age,
He felt different
And resented it.
Since he is not common,
He hates “common people”
And he will never
Write any poetry that
Common people might like,
Because he despises them.

The so-called common people
Return the favor
With interest;
Or one might better say,
With lack of interest
In anything he ever wrote.

So he shoots arrows of flaming sarcasm
At an empty gallery
Imagining himself
A great marksman.

While his dullard cousin
Who went to a state university
Is making a fortune
In greeting cards.

Oh, and by the way —
If you see him
Tell him, please
In these words:
“Greetings from your dullard cousin”