the misunderstood poet perhaps its just the way the snow falls or the way that life is but i am the way i am for the reason just as you are you light doesn't touch the river in exactly the same way each time so how could each of us be the same how uninteresting would that be? yes, my words are simple my words are cliche perhaps hope is my soul and soup is my way i can't please everyone not this time i didn't ask you to understand used to that by this time in life's game respect isn't too hard? human decency for the sincerest try? that's too much to ask though so i sigh and move on wishes of luck to the next poet who passes your way hope she has flashier words and definitely doesn't rhyme hope she doesn't feel devotion in her heart never writes it if she does anyway hope can't live within her not even a hint the clouds should always exist don't long or cry to far in either you know, just in case...
