Author's note: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling. Ickle Ronniekins is not mine. This poem is set during GoF, probably right after the Triwizard Champions are announced when Ron was not particularly happy with Harry (to say the least).

How does it feel to be famous?
To walk down the hallway
And hear people whisper your name?
To know that you saved the world?

You say you didn't ask for it
That you truly hate it
But I think it must be better
Than no one knowing your name

You can't imagine how it is
To be always ignored
To be confused with your brothers
Just because you have red hair

You don't have to wear old dress robes,
Use a broken wand or
Try to live up to perfection
For you are perfect yourself

Everyone loves you, for you
Are still the Boy Who Lived
You don't have to work to make friends
And help's always there for you

You don't know how good you have it
Never lost in a crowd
Always getting the attention
While we are in your shadow

How does it feel
To be better than us all?