The Object of Attention

From my vantage point I can see

Throngs of people milling about

Usually they stop to look at me

Because I have that kind of clout

Some give me a mere passing glance

Others give me a long, hard stare

Some comment on my expression and stance

Some would love to touch me, but do not dare

I am used to being thoroughly scrutinized

Discussions on my attributes I hear

You would think by now I’d be desensitized

I already have a permanent sneer…

All sorts of opinions I have heard

Some exalted, some just ridiculous

Explanations abstract that sound absurd,

I am used to attention assiduous..

**

Like a performer on stage perpetually

I have been basking in public attention

I have immortalized my creator actually

Of his talent, I am a representation. 

Now that you are at the end of the poem, let me reveal the somewhat cryptic identity of the narrator- this poem is written from the point of view of a famous statue- I had “David” at Accademia in Florence, Italy in mind. He was created my Michelangelo in the 16th century.

Replica of “David” outside the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, Italy