Is It Poetry
It Is Hard Being Smart
i must hide it) lost in it(s mind..
and try not to offend those..
whom are so much... more smarter..
and so very deep..as I sleep...
and running..off forever lost....
back into the deepest part of the woods..
and this her forest..she shows me..
and she is pleased...that I trust her..
and I am only happy that she is happy....
and walking around her forest...I find her..
home where she lives...and knocking....
she opens her door too him....and she..
recognizing his genius....
and being now his woods.....then..
looks down at his mismatched socks...
and knowing thus as she does..
she slips him in to hers...
and like a glove it's..
universe...spiraling out word....
becomes a little bit milky.. because of it..
and I thank you....whom ever you are.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949)
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