Oh, The Fame

You, facing away from us all, from the world and the fame. With your eyes elsewhere preoccupied, ours are busy and we scrutinise.
      ‘You know, they really don’t seem to have great complexions.’
      ‘I know, you would have thought they’d be able to afford good skin care.’
      ‘They’re probably wasting all their money on cigarettes, I hear they smoke you know? Are they not aware that it’s such a dirty habit?’
You, facing away from us all, from the world and fame are left vulnerable, jaded and scathed. They pick up on your blemishes and you wish you could paint over them and become a figurine, but you’re not.
      ‘I, I just don’t really know where to take my life.’ Who are you saying this to?
You, facing away from us all, from the world and the fame are left vulnerable, jaded and scathed; you lie awake for days on end rotting in your underwear, waiting for a saviour who will never be there. The fame. Oh, the fame.