The Idiot Poem by Medea Kali

On a warm spring day, the river mirrors
Images of trees on banks, vividly expressive
Of every speck and detail
Mine soul is a reflection of thee

You fail to see the beauty of our lives
I weep for the tears in thine eyes
Thy bitter smile; thy wicked mischiefs
If only you could feel love and what it reaps

How I long to instill peace in your heart
To make them understand, you are of a different kind
But thouest leaves a trail of heartaches where’er thou goest
And though belongs to no one but the wind