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Without Prestige

I am through performing
Grotesquely muted
Against this voyeuristic
Wall
As clear as a shallow sea
Prostrate before a
Warlord star.

A gift
For your casual soul
Window-shopping.
My heart is hung around my
Neck with your name.

Your pet,
My only trick is to
Disappear as you
Walk away
Holding whoever’s hand.

Without prestige,
I prefer to be discovered
Only by fanatical misfits
And deep sea divers
In the obscurity
Like a good gentleman.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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