Mortimer's Morsel - X

His fame was like a concrete cell
diminishing in size
with every new distraction that arose,
if he had known the hectic hell
that infamy supplies
he would have left the crowing for the crows,
he wondered how much longer he could pose

and knew it wouldn’t be that long
before he finally flipped
and started screaming “Get away from here!”
imagine how the docile throng
would stand there lacquer-lipped
and maybe some would even shed a tear.
He wished that he could simply disappear

just like his buddy Augustine
(that no one seemed to miss)
without whom there would not have been a quest
when they returned he’d ring the queen
in hopes of finding bliss
by putting her good humor to the test
with a slightly unconventional request.

And now outside the throne room stands
a regal looking bust
of Augustine, The Founder of The Chip,
remembered fondly through the lands
as someone ants could trust
he taught them how to give the cook the slip
and now they bring back goodies every trip,

while Mortimer goes out each day
in search of something new
content to be a loner with a scheme,
he smiles as he makes his way
beyond the masses who
may think his life’s as bland as it must seem
but a dreamer’s bound to have another dream.