the poet.

i knew a boy who could make you weep

with a handful of words shaped into poetry

his imagery sharp and achingly sweet

the prose simple, stark, and clean

his life, it was troubled, but his conviction pristine

when i met him on the sidewalk of that empty street

he was so sad, but content

thinking of how to make a difference

through his words and with his mind 

the perfect mix of raw and refined

he said i choose this hurt

i choose this pain

choose this sadness that burns and takes my breath away

so keep your smiles

and redirect your light

i think i'm going to walk this road a few more miles

i want to feel

the weight of the world

watch the tragedy and the comedy unfurl

i will learn how to speak

to people's souls

and they will remember the poet long after the man
he is gone