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He finally walked into the room
Swelling with pride
He had always dreamt
Of a day when he could deride
When he could tell these people
Of successes in his stride

But now, as they shook hands with him
The faces his eyes caught
The smiles he could barely return
The glances that he fought
These were the same people
He had been with a lot
What seems to be ages back
But an age it’s definitely not
The same once-teenage boys
With whom he smoked some pot
With whom he learned and laughed
With whom he was besot

And now, here they stand
Just the same as then
With the same glint in their orbs
With the same charm and zen
While he has changed thousandfold
Amassed wealth and ruled men
Made fame amid vacuous heads
Lived alone in a palatial den

So is he to gloat over
His empty achievements
Or is he to feel left out of
A world of simple assortments?

His dilemma thickens…
Just like his boiling success
But all he can now do
Is silently slip out at recess
Hoping he gets called back in
By these kind kings, into their fortress