Rock Star
He looked mean and sullen.
Perhaps he thought it befitted his rock star image.
Or perhaps he thought it would distract from the acne,
which was a bit of a shock, to be honest.
He looked too ordinary to set any teen’s heart throbbing.
But he wrote “To Vicky” and signed his name,
which would have been fine apart from
the dribble of ink down the front of her dress,
her favourite pale orange shirt-waister,
saved up for from her mum’s Gratton catalogue.
He must have noticed, surely.
“Look what tha’s done”, she said
showing him the damage.
He gazed sullenly at the floor.
He may have been a rock star
but he had acne and a leaky pen,
and the damage should be acknowledged.
“Look what tha’s done”, she said more loudly,
only to still be ignored
by the rock star with the acne and the leaky pen.
So she followed him round the room
warning everyone of the hazard.
He may have been a rock star
but he had acne, really bad acne
and a leaky pen
and he really was mean and sullen.
She made sure everyone knew it.
That was how they both discovered that nobody liked his music any more.


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