Inconspicuous

I need love, honour and fame If you praise me and praise my work I may have them Now all the praises that I am showered Will bring me fame And all the fame that I am bestowed Will bring me love And all the love that with I am adored Will bring me honour But all are not without game unfair And what looks like a fame Is it a shell game? Or is it a con game? To me fame or honour Is nothing but a bullshit As everyone is not blessed with a manor Or their life can achieve feat The rich and the poor The brave and the benevolent All strive for fame And taste bitter-sweet wine of praise or blame In some form or shape Does scandal or shame assault But fortunate is the man alive or dead Of whom the least is thought Or the least is said