The Actor, he thinks he’s funny. Throws around cheap jokes, has lots of money. Plays hearts like he plays old music. Calls you a part, of his fever dream world. You see, actors they’re good at pretending you’re the only one that means anything. Peek out under tinted glasses at girls; sweet as molasses. The thing is a show only lasts a few seasons so prepare to be a part of his. For just as long.
if you like this poem, please check out the others in my “Artists” collection. thanks!!