terça-feira, 3 de julho de 2007

Poetry that does not rhyme: Famous people

They bring big thorns.
They throw everything around.
They get no reward.
No prize for their violent games.
And still they go on.
They never give up.
They play all day to be the best.
People admire them all the time.
They seem them like heroes.
Like they saved them all.
And still they’re no more then us.
They’re just humans.
Used to their life’s of craziness.
Buying strange things all the time.
They are strange.
They have their odd habits.
If they are hill its news.
If they are sad its news.
If they walk its news.
Everything is a reason for more money.
And we just keep on trying.
Get rich or die.
We suck all the contact they give us.
Us, the pure mortals.
Not famous.
Not healthy.
We work hard for an appreciation of our family.
They work a bit for the love of thousands.

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