His hair arrayed in a muddy brown mess,
With all of the elegance and finesse,
Of a homeless man in a burlap dress. 
His meticulous life well unkempt,
With a crooked smile of contempt,
Of which I never would've dreamt. 
His voice laced with earnest delight,
With cheerful tone that gives a fright,
Of which I'd run from, I just might. 



Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741