Simplicity is rich to the poor mans eyes.

Why war, why rumor, why lies?

A books cover is beautiful, tho torn inside.

Leave out the war, rumors, and lies.

A book was not meant to attract flies.

Heritics and loud voices rule the tides,

But among the croud the quiet man sighs.

War is not love, and hate abides.

This book may be beautiful in disguise

But for the closer look, you realize

This phrase survives,

Is God love, or is he the Father of man's cries?

The book is good, tho some hatred survives.

These are the cries,

from a poor mans eyes.