(Great Gatsby: Nick’s poem to Gatsby)

I contacted so many who I expected to show.
Those who weren’t expected did.
I remember the parties full with infinitive glowing stars.
But just as when the bright truth like a sunny  day appears they cease to be visible.
To my utter disbelief and disgust towards those many stars who never showed.
No call or card from Daisy who said to have fancied you.
My blood boils for you Old SPORT and your GRAND future that was lost.
All for a prohibited and poisonous drink that  you took that killed you slowly.
Now here I stand with your father, the minister, Owl eyes, and a few of your servants.
The irony of how you never accepted your father yet he stands here like a proud lion.
With this letter I say goodbye to the Great Gatsby who deserved so much more but was given nothing.
I can only carry you in my memories.
That is my gift to you old sport. 
-A.R.

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