puppets to the left & losers to the middle.
I think it's ironic that you think you're the best-
when you're really the worst person I know.
And I'm aquainted with all your friends.
Wish you could see the little boy you really are.
You'll never be, as kind as me-
and that's why you hold interest.
No one laughs when you laugh at me.
But just keep trying,
you're slowly developing an art.
I'll study and take notes,
we're slowly switching roles.
You're ending up looking a bit desperate.
You're too far off in your reality of machines and microphones.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.