In the shadows of wealth and fame,
A man named John found fortune's game.
A prize of millions, his name proclaimed,
A world of adulation, all but ordained.
But with the prize came a price,
Of strangers' greed and envy's vice. Requests for help and charity's calls, All asking for a piece of his hall.
Yet darker still, the threats arrived, Anonymous letters, with words contrived.
Warnings of danger and violent ends, A fate he couldn't comprehend.
Paranoia crept in, a creeping dread, His life no longer his, his peace dead. In fear he fled, from fame's embrace, A fugitive now, in a foreign place.
But fate is cruel, and life is grim,
For the killer was someone known to him. In the shadows of that dingy room,
John met his end, his life consumed.
A life cut short, a soul extinguished,
A price too high, for wealth distinguished.
The cost of fame, a bitter pill,
A story of riches, gone so still
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Breaking The Mold: Poetry For A New Era
PoetryBreaking boundaries with bold words, this is poetry for the rebel souls. Let's take a gander!
