Jerk, a poem about a real boy who won’t read my blog in a million years

JERK

You walk backward,
flashing a powerful success
that wears vintage jackets
and not business suits.
You raise a finger and command the stars, and I
once loved you for the mighty stoicism your life preached.
Children
melt your bricks like ice,
and sometimes a pretty girl, for one week at a time.
I pity you for the power that provokes adoration
without affection.
I once thought you so strong for the way your hands
could hold so much power without spilling.
Now I name you Selfish and am annoyed
when blonde-haired children make you smile.