Fake

fake I snuck into the party with an ID I hastily made and stumbled, out of step, into the poetry parade. In this beautiful country club, I'm surrounded by my betters. I wave my kindergarten rhymes to show the men of letters. In the echo of the learned men who came this way before me I hear the patterned minuets, that if followed, lead to glory. I chafe in those traveled ruts and I long for something varied and I hope to spark a unique verse, between school and the cemetery.