Poor Fellow
Bruised ego; the woman who made him look good
To even the ones who saw nothing in him has gone.
It would seem that she also saw nothing in him, except
Credit card dinners and seats at the opera, chances to
Hobnob with people who'd warm up to her as they
Retained their coolness toward him. Those things
Weren't enough. She now hangs on the shoulder
Of someone who's thought to have substance to
Him, while he goes on trying to prove he does, too,
But can't. His ego is bruised.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck

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Written on 2025-06-13 at 12:21




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