He stands up, begins to sing, weaving his words like silk string.
His grace, his charm, hides all the harm.
On the inside hes fading away, can no longer stray,
All the fame, all the fans, yet he is the loneliest man.
Lingering for love, but not long enough.
I wish I could meet him, and let him know how I feel,
Tell him hes lovely, without all the concerts and gigs.
I'm not just a groopie, I'm not just a fan, my love for hims more real than that.
To him i'm just another face singing along,
Who'd never understand the emptyness that haunts him, forever long.
(Renees comment to all readers:)
This is more of a song than a poem, i should really add more but i guess i cant think of what else to add. Hope everyone that reads this enjoys it!
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