The failed looker

A poem this time... ^_^

The Failed Looker

Call me not a Shakespeare
For I am not He
Who formed those twisted words
Beyond the lives of many

Oh, how much I adore the lines
Of those sightful lookers
That twist and flow and sing and I
But one of those lovers

Ask me not what they mean
The twisted hymns that fly and fall
I’m not the saint of words
Who knows them all or not at all

Oh, through the glance of yours
You do abhor;
The insult on the breeze of my failures
Yet still my sight you do encore

Why ask you my sight
As if I am a foolish looker
My views are not as bright
As true as the witty mocker

I cannot find the key to my world
Of words of literature-toast
Now, my grave lies at the very gate
Which I used to travel most

My words are lost, their words are lost
My words are lost and theirs as well

Life’s a scattering poem
That people always face and see
If you realize and think
You, yourself a looker be

Seek me not on lines, on words on hymns
My affection goes on its trodden trek
Now, I’ve lost the key to my world
And I can’t find my own words back.