On the surface it would seem,
He has the goods that make a dream.
But underneath that outer shell,
He is shallow minded, mean as hell.
Those who follow him are the same,
And cast all men to awful shame.
Tricks, pranks, and childish play,
Begging for attention, a most infantile way.
Is this a form of ego inflation?
So fond of dirty deeds and agitation.
Think hard, soon you will see,
Who this pitiful soul could be.
It is easy, he doesn't hide it.
I will bide my time, not get excited.
End is near, justice will be done.
Then we shall see who has had the most fun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very good! Theodora Onken