Infamously Average
by, Max Booth
You tell me you’ll never be
A famous dancer—
—or a supermodel
Nor the century’s next
Glorified sex symbol
Frustrated teenagers
Will never visualize
The curves of your breasts
As they ruin your cutout
With their discarded spawn
—Tho’ I am not certain
As to why you would frown
Over such a fact
You tell me you want to be famous
And I ask you why
And you don’t know
I ask you what famous even means
And you shrug, not sure yourself
But you still want it nonetheless
You need it to prove
Something you’ll never understand
Like ice cream
For the ego
I’ll ask the entire globe
And still no one will ever know
Why they have this desire
To be worshipped by all
To have a million arms
Catch you as you fall
But you will never need them
For my grasp is stronger
And my devotion is longer
Perhaps it will last forever
And perhaps longer than that, too
You do not need
To master the world
You do not need
To even be great
At a single thing
You are great enough for me
And I will always be
Your number one fan
Just as long as you continue
To be your own
Human being…
