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The Poet

The Poet she had called him,

For how the words flowed from his soul.

How he’d made the people listen,

How he wanted them to change the world.

In a world full of loathing, 

The Poet tried to make them see.

The world was not a place of hate, 

But rather one of compassion. 

His voice was never quiet, 

His message, loud and clear.

We all could change the world, 

If we looked past the hatred and disgust, 

And at the beauty and endearment the world offered.

The poet failed.

As his word passed through empty halls,

Not reaching a single ear.

He was lost, 

Unsure of the world. 

Until he found you.

Beck and call.

Twist and turn.

Until he found you.

For you had become the poet.

Nothing more and everything else.


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