what would a life
living for the validation of others
look like?

the craving of praise,

not to prove his worth

but to make certain
he’s alive,

that someone knows he’s here

that someone knows
he’s on fire

could it be

as sad as a man
in a gym full of boys

sinking shot after shot
from thirty-five feet,

stepping back to look around,

seeing

if anyone’s noticed?