That Random Poem About “Fame”


There are good, bad, and ugly sides of fame. Some people become famous and remain the same humble, respectable, genuine, and kind-hearted people they were before. They manage their money well and are even charitable. Then you have others who become famous and are lost at what to do with their new reality. They are granted so much access to do things that they dreamed of as children. Being that they are so lost, everything around them can deteriorate. Fame doesn’t only change you, but the people around you. Fame can sometimes get the best of people. Fame, especially when it comes fast, can be bitter sweet. One day when I was 18 years old, I was sitting in my first period classroom, English. It was about two weeks before Christmas break. We were given so much freetime. During the beginning of this class day, I randomly started jotting down a series of words. These words turned into a poem. I honestly don’t even remember what prompted me to construct this body of work (I love reading poetry, books, articles, scripts, and enjoy music. Tupac Shakur is one of my biggest inspirations and favorite artists of all time). To be clear, I’m not a poet and I will never consider myself to be that. The beginning of the poem may seem rocky and all over the place. Just bear with me. 


The attention makes me feel good

Like I’m special and worth something

But not the money hungry haters I once called friends

I’ve exited my way out of the hood

So my troubles should end

I now dine fine

Sleep in hotels loaded with crystal, clean sheets, and people just like me

But this new world of mine

Is not what it appears to be

I was once nameless

Now strangers know my name

My family saw me as dumb and worthless

So I entered an unfriendly and evil game

A game filled with false promises of riches and notoriety

Chances of meeting those I admired in childhood

These superstars, icons, and legends don’t understand the definition of sobriety

So I no longer feel like the life I wanted is ALL good

Friends now enemies

Call me a sell out

Yet, unable to pay bills and feed their babies

So they come to me for handouts

My net worth is now 50 million dollars

But my pockets are empty

Without money to impress Hollywood, my star gets smaller

Companies lose faith in me, future looks unpretty

My home gets foreclosed and cars get repossessed

The bank shut down my accounts

I re enter the hood feeling stressed and depressed

My hood is now home again because fame checked out

No one welcomes me back with open arms

Alone is what I feel without my people’s warm embrace

My hood is a place with no room for me to perform

Past dreams are no longer worth the chase

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