What would you say, if I portrayed -
a thought- no- an image
inside of your brain?

Would you read through
the sorrow and pain?

Would you read on a day
that my originality is, ever, so plain?

Would you read when my words
seem to mesmerize:
the times when I get a twinkle in my eye?

Do not lie.

Would you read
until I, last, say 'goodbye'?

What would you say, if I debate that:

  "all the vile old men in the world-
 are actually children- who have failed
to make amends with the people,
places and things that have hurt them,
way back when" ?