He’s confusing
I sure am stumped
As if a puzzle came to life.
Unlike a book
I can’t read him
Maybe I don’t speak his language
Yet I still try
Which proves that I care
And I’m not scared
Because people aren’t open books
You have to discover them on your own
I love that one person could be
Rocks to me
And gold to you
Even a crescent moon
And what I see in him is a tree
With moss, with roots, with leaves
Don’t cut it down
Because someone out there might want
To plant a thousand more seeds
From your sprout
And grow a society of trees.
For one of my friends. Confusing people, am I right?