In the reflection of the lense, a god, fair-skinned and unparalleled in beauty glares back.Baldr is upset.He frets over the crack that trickles down his screen,the deadlines are due and the paychecks have yet to be seen.Baldr is stressed.How can he, who is beloved by all,be so misfortunate as to have dropped his phone during a call?One pic is all it would take for Baldr to get his big break.Runways and talk shows, caviar, and golden marshmallows,all could be his if it weren't for this!It must be fate because the misfortune isn't his,it must be that the world, just isn't ready for him.Humans will miss out on the structure of Baldr's cheekbones,until he has the money to afford a new iPhone.
This poem is about:
Guide that inspired this poem:
Need to talk?
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741