A poet is sitting by the riverside
I can see him staring at me
A gaze full of pity and disdain
As if I am the one to blame

Once there was the promise of harmony and creativity
Now I am trapped in his lack of singularity

And there’s only one poet to blame
One man who deserves the centerpiece
In this game of shame
For I am just a battologist’s shade

I am unable to avoid
The faults in his eyes
The tedious and battering curse
Of wasting precious potential

So I see the man whose reflection I am
And the way his eyes are fixed on me
And I see the proudness
Being devoured by the sadness
And I’m glad that I’m just a reflection