The Fame Game Poem by jan oskar hansen

The Fame Game


The princess sat on a bench looking pretty,
behind her Taj Mahal, and a big rat that sat,
on the perfect lawn, quietly observing her
with what looks like deep concern;

there were many rats in her life hungry for
crumbs of her fame, but they were satisfied,
cornered her for more and in a dark tunnel,
without an exit

Mangled bodies and steel and the smell of
petrol, the rats scuttled off, down sewers they
came from, waiting for the next prey to come
and play the game of fame.