The Star
¶ 1
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He’s almost an artist
They whispered, mesmerised
By his speed, his vision
His courage.
He plays on another sphere
Head and Shoulders above
The Pub side punters
And five minute wonders
Alongside him
(Though the comparison
is just a detraction
from his poetry in motion).
His skills sucked them in
A pack to feed on his life
Waiting for a trip
Before printing their analysis.
Just another tortured genius
No bigger than the last
To waltz across their path.
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