What do I care, if you see me,
as a loser, living in a tree?
But I do care, and that’s the issue,
Because in fact it’s not me, it’s you.

As time rolls on, we draw closer together,
you seem content to try, but never better.
I try to touch, but your heart you close,
aqnd thus I am bound, within your prose.

I try to be common, but never seem to blend,
and that is why, these verses I have penned.
The sound of your voice I cannot ignore,
for it is that cadence, that I truly adore.

Comme le Louvre ‘qui est à Paris,’
people judge you daily, and not ‘vis-à-vis.’
I secretly cringe, every time,
I think that insulting you should be a crime.

This is despite the criticism from you I receive,
because I know that it’s a result of how you perceive.
You once said to me, ‘if you weren’t,’
But why can’t you take me for what I am, please, you are God-sent!

I hope that you will one day see,
the faithful servant to you I would be.
Because that’s the way that ‘I perceive I,’
Just a simple dreamer, trying to get by.’