Sometimes I wonder,
   but not for grandeur,-
my mind does race as they go by.
Pretty faces floating
bodies lean and tall,
perfect figures
for the perfect stance
at me they do not glance.
No, low should this responsibility
be ****** upon them.
Why should the swans slow their pace
for an ogre of a duck,
waddling about,
chubby and clumsy.
I see them glare
But I do not care
save for such curiosity at my undeserved hate.
How selfish am I
at the delight I feel
At the thought of their reaction;
when I am so thin it is frightening,
when I am frail
and they do not touch
for fear of shattering me..
when I cry without a sound,
and when I go out with a BANG!
that will leave them speechless.

But not just any bang,
a literal bang,
coming from my tight grip
and finger pressing hard
against the trigger.