3. Myself.

I am a person, whom no one can see;
There lies my sorrow, my fraternity,
I try to be good; I try to do good,
But end up like a monster behind a hood,
‘tis my body, you see, all wrapped up in hairs;
Prevents people from viewing the person who cares;
So people I tell you in this poem;
Who dwells inside this eerie home;
It’s a kind person as you’ll see,
Who loves people, and will happy be,
Just knowing the fact that his goodwill you see,
But of late this person is very much sad,
Having none to turn to has made his good heart, go bad,
So inwardly he suffers the silent pain,
In the worlds most cruel of all games,
The game is tough and the player sore,
With none to turn to, the life’s a big big bore,
So here he lies, waiting as ever;
Will there be a day as sweet as a flower;
With this note I end my each day,
I am a happy person if today,
I’ve laughed, given or forgiven;
Laughing o’mine is superficial you see,
With a heavy heart, you just can’t be,
Who you think you ought to be,
If giving’s good, I do like to give,
But there are reasons people have why they shouldn’t take a gift from me,
They think I’m bad, it adds to the pain,
But what I do shall not go in vain,
I’ve tried before, and I shall try again,
Just to hang on to this game,
The day shall come when I shall have fame,
And I might just win in the game.
So dear people, I beg of you,
Give me a chance,
I will show you that I too,
Can make a difference in your life.
All that I want is a piece of your heart;
The smallest one with which you can part;
I shall cling there till my soul departs.