So here's another poem that I made three years ago, inspired from a person that I had once met. Now, don't think that I'm talking about you when you don't even know who I'm talking about. This is just between me and my former self, and now that I think about it, I regret writing this for I never really meant to do this to him. I never knew him personally, we weren't close enough for me to know his true self, but hey, at least you were able to leave me a memory of you. And in all honesty, I am thankful that I met you.
Well, let's get this going, shall we? All this cheesiness is starting to make me gag.
Naked Eye
Like a class clown entertaining his audience with his feeble jokes.
Like a court jester buying the queen's affections through his own ways.
Like a famous person who's admirers worship the ground he walks on.
Like a rock artist who's got a long line of tickets wanting to be his friend.
A lucky man, indeed.
No one can refute his notions.
No one can spoil his name to the highest.
No one disdainful enough can be his friend.
And no one can stand up against him, even the queen.
For he thinks that when he talks,
time stops.
all eyes are on him.
and no one can say a word.
For he knows that he controls everything and everyone in his hands.
For he doesn't care who he hurts, as long as he still looks good.
Pretty egocentric, if you ask me. And pathetic too.
It's a pity, for portraying this coveted role and no one, not even his worthy friends has ever seen him shed off his clothes.
But then again, we may never know. He may have already shown his skin at some point.
© luraaa
08.05.06
2:00 am
Note: If we've met, please do not take this seriously. This was written years ago, when I was a teenager going through the typical stages of adolescence. And if we haven't, then, don't take this seriously as well.
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