He was alone, finally
Shutting out the world,
Bustling at his door.
He was a citizen of the world,
Rootless and at ease,
In every city that reeked power.
But distanced, from all who cared
Numerous lovers, quickly discarded
And a family that had learnt
To live, without him.
This game took him far, very far
Right to the top.
From where he now surveyed
The final emptiness, of the power game.
A desolate empty house,
The chill of loveless sex.
A hollow shell of a life that started with
A burning desire, to be ‘someone important’
He was the ultimate outsider
Who worked hard to become, the ultimate insider
Who knew everything and everyone,
But didn’t know his soul anymore.
This is brilliant Anita. One of your best. Rich with irony, you share your sorry tale with compassion and great poetic skill. Bravo. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
I love the way the end redefines the beginning. You are on a poetic high!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The ride to fame has it price if you become blinded by success