Note To Self
You're having delusions of grandeur.
Your heart is racing fast,
Enebriated. You think you're inspired
But this isn't going to last.
In a matter of time, you'll be sober.
Soon you're going to crash.
Once reality strikes, it's over.
(It's happened before, you know.)
Erase all illusions. Remember
That all things are passing and vain.
They'll be dismantled, dismembered
Forgotten. There's no saving grace in fame.
This poem is about:
Me