He knows it.
He knows how beautiful all the world thinks he is.
Aware of the adoration, shallow infatuation.
He’s not blind to where this has led.
The fame
The fortune
The girls
The boys
The sex
The kudos
The parties
Yet
No matter the adoration, plaudits and swooners,
No one sees inside your soul.
Your own misgivings, insecurities.
Fighting your own demons that lurk within.
But this is not without merit.
For despite the the here and now, the gifts and the glory, he is smart.
He knows it will not last, does he burn bright to the last?
A short yet powerful flame?
One he controls?
Or does he turn to an ember, a lost forgotten spark which has ebbed away its heat, to a puff of smoke that’s lost on the wind?
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