Behind those vapid empty eyes
that chiselled jaw he can’t disguise
the toned physique, a woman’s dream
a shame there’s nothing in between
those ears so sculpted, perfect male;
his conversations sure to fail.
His manhood covered in a swash
of crimson flag, a warring cloth,
his own reflection straight ahead
it’s down narcissus’ road he’s fled.
Most girls don’t want a six packed freak
prefer the mind of the unique.