Why must people feel so bitter, bleak?
So unloved like lost freaks?
What could be the purpose of lives lived alone?
Who wants the displeasure of a soul blue-toned?
Tears hit my paper forming these phrases
To console my seemingly hollow soul,
But what I feel, well, words won't erase this.
Every fool realizes what the sage can never know.

By: Anthony AJ Jackson
4-9-2000 9:42a.m.