She cries out for help
it does not come
she is truly never herself
she sits quietly adding the sum

of the people who have scorned
her sharp mind so eager
and all the tears she has adorned
to them that seem oh so meager

She sits and talks to he
who cannot be seen
for she slowed and opened her eyes to see
that an invisible poet he has not always been

though he feels her he does get
most others send her evil leers
while she converses with the invisible poet
who always finds her raining tears