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A group of under-twenty's, riding
down the boulevard not hiding
anything from any eyes,
pass me by in my disguise.
Glasses with dark lenses set
under a hat; my nose is wet,
I keep having to push them up.
The guy who's driving waves, says 'Sup?
Trying to hold my belly in,
Try not to scowl, but not to grin;
Trying to look nice, not cool,
but end up looking like a fool.
But that's not what the driver thinks,
Because he either squints or winks,
I think the former, but the latter
makes me wish my abs were flatter.
Under fat they do exist,
unattained, a goal I've missed.
I wonder how I'd fair in bed
with him based on what I've just said.
Later now, alone in bed,
shoveling food into my head,
I think that I'll get fit tomorrow.
Until then I smile, swallow.
© 2014 Nicholas Emeigh
Read by the Author
Part of the group "Record-A-Poem," and part of the Playlist "The Poetry of Nicholas Emeigh" which includes 40+ other poems.
Notes: This poem was written on Saturday, April 12, 2014. It's pretty self explanatory. I'm overly insecure sometimes, and I definitely don't see myself as others see me. I don't know why, but it's true. At least I'm not a cocky asshole. Anyway, enjoy.
The unique works displayed on the pages herein are © 1997-2013 Nicholas Emeigh. Use is restricted.
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