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Keenan Sep 2018
Everyone keeps praising him,
Again and again,
It has became a habit,
He doesn’t care

Greatness is what his mind's full of,
Cos he's so full of himself,
That it's over the top.
His minds a ***,
Which he carefully fills
Giving him skills,
To pay the bills,
Then he dutifully parades off.

The hats are off,
He was almost at the top-
Then he flopped...
It was a valiant effort,
Executed
In such a way that it didn't work out.

All the hard work is spilling out of the spout,
He's a teapot-brittle,
He gave it his best,
But was taken out in one shot.

Heads drop,
You see crimson red,
He’s the medium,
And the floor’s his art board.

He shattered every,
It was bound to happen,
A bomb ticking,
And when the timer hit zero,
He was out of luck.

A professional stuntman,
Head off,
Because of his arrogance.
Safety was off-
Priority.

It drew in more of a crowd,
A double edge sword,
Waiting to be misused by it’s lord,
He got the wrong side of the blade,
And then he became
A corpse.

Like a broken teapot,
He is irreparable,
Never will be the same,
No matter how prestigious doctors came.

He was tied to the game,
And finally lost a round,
Now he’s no longer around.

He had so much prestige to his name,
All gone in one blow,
A teapot,
All broke.

The ambulance arrives,
Red tape is on the scene,
The blood and gore,
Is just obscene.

The stuntman is like a teapot,
The way he moves,
Elegant from all sides,
Unfortunately he got caught.

— The End —