Harsh Light Of Reality

His hair is messy and curly

Some would say that it is girly

But to that he'd reply

With a glint in his eye

That really they're just being surly

Eyes that see only through spectacles

Acne coating his face in festivals

His ears are too large

Each its own barge

And his voice could lose a few decibles

He could still stand to lose a few pounds

But frankly he's made leaps and bounds

Towards the body he desires

Through life's many mires

Despite a form that still confounds

Writing is his one true love

A gift to him from above

Games are his mistress

Stealing his time like a kiss

His muse knocks them aside with a shove