I write for those who never read me
Or if they do, they've never shown,
I raise my poems from my womb...
(Will they read them upon my tomb?)
I write for those who cannot fly,
(But have they ever, ever tried?)
I spread my words into their world
And each of them, they just deny.
I am the one who's "solitary"
But if they gave a second look,
They'd see what's written in my book...
(-But would they buy a dictionary?)
I write for those whose eyes are blind,
They're deaf and dumb, and cold and dry.
And even though they'll never listen,
I write, for otherwise, I'd die.