I've heard that you are pretty. That you have no need to dress. I've heard you come easy to those that are in distress. But still you humor those who try and make the press. Is your work limitless? I have seen happiness make you fly. So for a man who cries and just can't shine, I feel your loneliness. Everyone can use you. They say you are on their side. Does this even bruise you? Or are you just some little ride. Well i wrote this out only to understand. But you, Poetry can not save me, so try another man.
Honestly, this concluded different then I imaged from the start. I didn't take time here as I just wrote down an instant thought. I could interpret this in a few ways. But it defiantly stems from my love of poetry and unsure if it loves me back.