For those of you who stare at me,
gleaming at my brilliance,
all you see is the sparkles and glitter,
but not the true appearance.
And for those who I am speaking to,
you are not the ones closest,
but the ones who judge all of us,
the ones who think they bring justice.
However, the sparkle's gleam is glared by the sun,
for the reason I am here is because of my own fun.
A hole is laid before me,
more or less a mile.
It swallowed me whole with no remorse,
blaming it on my smile.
But now I frown because of my bad deeds,
and those of justice search for me all the while.
They thought I was there,
tangled with the common crowd,
but my attempts to contact them
was thwarted by the graying cloud.
Now I sit in my dark pit,
staring at the ground.
I write the poem now
to give me hope that I will be found.