narc

At blank page he'll sit and stare
The poets outfit he will wear
A tortured soul in so much pain
The women's favour, try to gain
That closet narc's on show again
Tears on tap that flow like rain
Shuns the day, embraces night
Throws up a hand to shield from light
Attempts to do what isn't right
Watch as he makes words take flight
Self pity, doubt, his stock in trade
A deep, elaborate charade
Chuckling as girls hearts are slayed
Family are the ones betrayed
But for now his page is blank
He's only got himself to thank
There's nothing left, an empty tank
He should have stopped before he sank
He'll go on like nothing's wrong
The truth is he is not that strong
Oh closet narc, the mirrors song
Comes from the closet, where you belong...