by Nick Gisburne
Indifference destroyed him. What a waste.
He could have been a star, a blinding light,
But nothing, not the fickle fame he chased,
Was possible. He never learned to fight.
Rejection, every negative a nail,
Delivered as the prize to each pursuit,
Confirmed he must inevitably fail,
Another kick from life’s abusive boot.
Refusing to be hostage to a dream,
He threw away the promise, and the pain,
But, lacking any pride or self-esteem,
He travelled other avenues, in vain.
They found him in a river, in a car.
Too late. Too bad. He could have been a star.
