Waltorrrr.

In poetry class, we were told to write poems that were about figures that everyone in the room would know. I chose one of my close friends, Walter, as my muse. Fortunately, he's read this and greatly approves of it. So no, I am not a creeper.

As I flip my hair back and smile into the crowd
I know that there is an unreasonable amount of people
that are paying close attention to the sparkle in my smile.
This smile, upon a face I wake up to every morning,
is not only staring back at me in my mirror,
but in the newspaper,
on posters,
and on brochures.
The resident celebrity,
known by all,
admired by many,
hated by none.
They all expect me to do great things,
and I will,
with the eyes of the university always watching me.
I keep smiling,
running from meeting to meeting,
representing various organizations,
exceeding expectations by leaps and bounds,
and speaking to everyone that I possibly can,
so they can know me
and know that failure is not an option,
and the only person that can and will control my success is me.
So I keep running and running,
my body aching,
my mind exhausted,
hoping that I can find myself between
now and my next obligation.