In springtime’s bloom of ’86,
A dream was born through fate’s small tricks.
A boy named Will walked campus ground,
At Missouri U, where hope was found.
A journalist he meant to be,
But felt no fire, no energy.
For Hollywood — his heart would race,
Those films, that magic, that shining place.
He’d never left his hometown gate,
But dreamt of stars, of love, of fate.
So weeks before his cap and gown,
He packed his bags, left college town.
To California’s golden shore,
Where countless dreamers came before.
He faced the truth, a crowded street,
Where every smile masked defeat.
He auditioned here, rejected there,
He gave his all — got no one’s stare.
So jobs he took, both odd and strange,
Just trying to live and make some change.
By day, a chicken — cluck and cheer,
Outside a diner, hot or clear.
By night, a driver dressed in black,
For strippers — driving there and back.
He’d play their tunes, he’d gather clothes,
And count the tips when parties closed.
He dreamed that one day soon he’d quit,
To act for real — to make a hit.
But money ran as quick as rain,
Auditions brought him only pain.
Till one last night, beneath dim light,
A dancer changed his fate that night.
She said, “I too just chase the screen,
This job’s my bridge to what’s unseen.
But take this class — it’s where they go,
The stars who’ve made the brightest show.”
At first, he scoffed — “I need no class,
My time to learn has long since passed!”
But something stirred — he felt a spark,
A whisper through his weary dark.
So Will went once, just to attend,
Not knowing fate had planned a bend.
Paired up with one who’d soon be seen,
By agents judging every scene.
He played his part, so full, so true,
His heart broke through each line he drew.
The crowd fell still — the air grew tight,
The agents watched with eyes alight.
The star they’d come to see that day,
Was lost — for Will had stole the play.
They said, “Forget the other man,
We’ve found our lead — our future’s plan.”
That single scene, that burst of flame,
Would echo through the halls of fame.
For Will, the boy who once did quit,
Was known thereafter as Brad Pitt.
From chicken suit to silver screen,
He lived the life he’d only dreamed.
A tale of grit, of chance, of will —
A name the world remembers still.
So chase your dream, though times seem tough,
For fate rewards the brave enough.
From fast food feathers, worn and lit —
Was born the star — the one, Brad Pitt.