Oh, my life is so perfect
You really just don’t know.
But everywhere I go’s a kind of
Fantasy on show

I’m very rich and clever,
Surrounded by my friends.
There not some sort of entourage
Just after their own ends

I soak up rays beneath the sun
With all my gals and fellas;
Then send out selfies to you all
So you can be more jealous

The wonder of my life is such
You likely don’t believe:
I understand. Hey, few of you
Could really quite conceive

How much my words are full of lies
Yes, each and every one:
I’m just a grieving father
Who’s been losing
His own

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Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

5 thoughts on “Perfect”

  1. Gut wrenching! The set up and punch to the stomach at the end…well done, but I never know if posts like this are meant to be “liked”…? And I’m sorry you have to go through this.

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