by step2247

Created on: April 20, 2008   Last Updated: December 13, 2008

"The Poet's Lament"

Oh, poor pathetic fool
Is there no more ink for you?
All dried up are those well-witted phrases
Expectant of all men's praises!

Once they admired you
Talk of the town!
Stealing your pretty little sayings
And mixing them with their own.

You did not seem to mind-
As long as you were on top,
As long as you had your fame.

But now they're bored of you
The pomp succumbed to fate.
The very thing you feared the most,
Eternity laid to waste.

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