I am a poet with lofty dreams
just an outcast without a name
I frown at the ways and schemes
of base society’s type of fame

I am a poet with lofty dreams
blessed to write, in verses’ toil
dressed in nothing but the whims
of applauds that shadows spoil

I am a poet with lofty dreams
rich in the experience of pain
I cater not to vanity’s screams
of hollowed hopes, all in vain

I am a poet with lofty dreams
that dwell on life’s many faces
My poetry is a sword that gleams
sharpened true by pitfalls’ graces

I am a poet with lofty dreams
who aims to rise from unknown mire
If gifted true I am, as so it seems
my dreams in time, I will acquire

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