There lived a man, a crooked man
Whose journey was indeed sheer folly
He had hoped to meet someone, just anyone
To share his plight and story

Many had seen him walk his crooked walk
But thought him unpleasing and crazy
We had watched from afar, afraid to go near
And we had avoided him completely

We could've looked past his decrepit state
But we invested much in seeing with naked eyes
So quickly we turned the other way
We cared not if he lives or dies

We could've helped this man
To close the journey that he had then begun
The earth would now claim his body where it laid
As his soul disappears into the sun

Know this man, the crooked man
Whose looks weighed on us a tonne
We've lost the chance to see this man
The man we conveniently chose to shun

Her voice rings through the plains,
Loud, unsullied, strong,
Telling the Stories with words,
No book had the spine to tell.

Life is too blooming short,
To not do as you please,
To let others dictate,
The type of life you should lead.

Life is too dang versatile,
For you to remain mundane,
To lock yourself indoors,
And be simply Plain Jane.

Life is too ****** expensive,
For you to be wasting it away,
To not know the value of existence,
To see the dawn of each day.

Life is too ******* beautiful,
For one to hate it as much as you,
To hate the miracle within yourself,
If only, just only, you knew.