The charmer has good game,
a new room every night’
A silence can explain
when the words don’t feel right;
Maybe old and spicy,
a smile that seems sincere;
Pearly blues so icy,
direction sharp and clear;
The holder of the cup,
a life that overflows;
Forgets the runner-up,
the one that no one knows;
This charismatic man
was always bound to be;
Winning since life began,
is definitely not me.
Written for the GloPoWriMo Day 7 prompt:
write a self-portrait poem, in which you explain why you are not a particular piece of art (a symphony, a figurine, a ballet, a sonnet), use at least one outlandish comparison, and a strange (and maybe not actually real) fact.
1994ever 