Tragic Poet And World Poem by Timothy Long

I'm in a weird world and cruel world as well, but we are all in that world, but we chose how to view it, it seems the smile grows faber everyday, only because it's raining does not mean that the sun will not shine again, but for the poet in a way the sun stopped shining for him a long time ago, well then he must find faith in this world filled with chaos, with loneliness equity's he stopped trying to see...how has a man like him stopped? everybody knows and he knows he can see beyond all wrong things, it's hard being happy when people are not there for you, in a way...it's a dream within a nightmare, the complexity and the allusion of popularness is quite hindering but it's a curse, while I the loner see it, while they don't, I've been saddened, humanity is expanding and increasing way to much, the differences are all unbearable, the tragic man writes symphony's of sorrow of his long lost love, his life is getting colder while the world see's him as older, the wordsmith dropped his pen as the teaks stalkless the page, mon dieu facilis descensus averno of peccavimus.