Disturbing and pleasing,
Like a drug,
Once tasted,
Necessity, tugs
As a Must
And you crave its
Biting, lust,
That serenades,
The dust
We are all
Made of.
A philosophical poem that looks the realty of fame in its dusty face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A succinct and realistic look at fame. It's really empty.