The Beautiful Man

Hello Readers! A few weeks ago, Ian and I collaborated on a story and it turned out pretty well.  In response, we decided to write another story, but this time in the form of poetry. If you like the first half then stay tuned for the second part, to be written by Intern Ian next Friday. 

 

He was the most beautiful thing the world have ever seen.

Every day the globe would gather at his footsteps,

just to have a moment to look upon his

face.

 

The crowds would constantly follow around this wonderful youth

and every city  would become polluted with people every time

the gorgeous man breezed through.

The food would run short and the traffic would never end.

Indeed, every city was worse off after the man would leave, but

they all loved to look at him at least

once.

 

To save the masses, the beautiful man was given a throne.

A chair to sit and watch people watch him.

Everyday day they would come, without rest or

Shame.

 

Yes, the beautiful man was well liked.

Wars were fought over his existence and every day he would sit on

his throne, the crowds never changing.

However, the beautiful man did. His eyes began to sag,

his smile dropped,

and every time he stood up he would swing from side to side.

One day, in the early morning he opened his mouth.

The wind shifted and the world stopped, just to hear his

question.

 

No one was ready for what was about to happen.

The sun shined against his golden throne and

the flowers waited expectantly at his feet.

His once bright eyes tried looking at the crowd before him.

The beautiful man only took a minute to rethink his decision.

His gaze was only able to tolerate the

ground.

 

“Can… can I please leave?”

 

 

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