Everybody's NowI won't say I love you. What's the point?
I'm just another dumb-ass, milling in
The sort of crowd which trails you
Everywhere you go. You're famous
Now. You don't need me to bring you
Dope and buy you pizzas. You've put
On that face which shows you're serious.
You're not the pretty coed dancing down
The hall, and I, it's clear, am not
The guy who comes at three to hear
You cry. You rise, a rocket. Are you
Happy? In some way, I guess you are,
And, in some way, I've come to terms
With knowing that you won't be mine.
You're everybody's. If I fought my way
Up to the front of this adoring throng,
And pledged my love to you again,
It seems unlikely that you'd hear,
So what would be the point?
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 180 times
Written on 2019-03-12 at 13:27
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