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Poem i wrote.

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You sat on a throne of your own making,
Thinking you higher than all the rest
While I sat below,
Thinking you the lowest of the pests

Vanity is your own treasure,
No one can steal that from you
But who would believe,
That I have that treasure too

Vain in the belief that I still matter,
That you still see me
Why can’t you understand,
That you and I are meant to be

But you being higher than all the rest,
You cannot see my agony
For I shall always be sitting below,
While you stay above unharmed by any