He only wanted to be forgotten, he
put on mask after mask seeking
the anonymity that celebrity denied.
There he was satanic, freely condemned
for thoughts he shared that grated
on their sense of self-worth, their egos,
and here almost angelic, if not to be
trusted, no one knowing which he was real
and which a carefully crafted veneer.
Still he found neither solace nor solitude,
forever imprisoned by their desire that he
conform to their needs, that he become
what they had never been able to attain.
They wanted to write his script, he only
wished to be a mime, forcing them to see
the person he was, not the avatar they created.
He had ascended the mountain of success
languished undeservedly on its peak,
only to discover that the path back down
presented obstacles at every turn, and he
ceased to belong to himself, had to belong
to everyone else who might claim him.
He had courted the fame he achieved,
truly a devil’s bargain he now realized,
and alone, deep in the night, he knew this
was how the devil would exact his payment
as his soul slowly withered into dust.

First Published in Unleash Lit, June 2024
https://www.unleashlit.com/p/two-poems-108