Fame is a quick business
With talent no longer required
Hard work now bypassed
By the surgery enhanced
Or the steroid induced
The pretty people
Barely able to string together
A sentence without prompt
Centre stage and lit
The artists who've bled
Worked fingers to bone
Gone nights without sleep
Must have missed the news
No matter what you have inside
That outer shell, perceived beauty
Is all that sells and goes to show
Reality bytes the heart and soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem