I look upon the poet as they make their rhyme
and I wonder if they are anything at all like me.
Loving the whole world but never being loved.
They put their heart in words for us all to see,
are they making a mark or just wasting time?

Do their words fall upon deaf uncaring ears
or do some take the time to stop and think?
In a hurried world where everyone is shoved
and most are obsessed with sex and drink
can people see him trying to dry the tears?

Do they sense the valiant effort that is made
to get them to feel anything but their own pain,
to help them to again open up their hurt heart
and learn from the words what it is to live again;
do think them an annoyance and let them fade?

The poet keeps on trying to get them all to see,
that a closed mind is useless as a  deep hole.
That everybody must be willing to do our part
and each of us is just a small part of the whole,
to realize that a better world is up to you and me.

All may ignore the poet and his message clear
and pay no mind to the words that you do hear,
may forget the path that they have tried to steer
and continue living your life in such pain and fear
but know that the poet always loves you so dear.