An unknown,
Simply liking my poem.
Or so I thought.
With a look at your work,
I'm completely astonished.
So beautiful, and lovely.
The flow, and rhythm,
Absolutely wonderful.
Why then,
Is someone so talented,
With words so graceful,
Looking at work
As amateur as mine.

You said the right things
You flattered and charmed
Convinced and promised
Until I was disarmed

Your words were golden
They sparkled and shined
They shined so brightly
I must have gone blind

I invested myself
In the words you sold
But all that glitters
Is not gold

I've always heard
That talk is cheap
Well my words are diamonds
And yours are free

You don't mean what you say
You don't do what you mean
Your words are free
But they're costing me

It takes little more than a kind word
To carry me through a month
To hold me up against battle
To force me, against trials, to triumph.

It takes little more than genuine praise
To burn a soul to memory
To lose all sense of proper speech
To fly unbound and freely.

And with a word comes a smile
I can't get it off my face
With a word comes gratitude
So potent my hands shake.

With a word comes a flattered feeling
That blossoms just under my ribs
With a word comes a jittery, happy panic
On which I cannot put a lid.

I laugh boisterously
I forget my usual frown
With a word I am lifted
And I will never come back down.