This poem is one of the deviant types that I made. I call it deviant because I don't feel it much of a poem but something deeper than that. I hated the inspiration of this poem, but the poem itself is not that bad or something to feel hatred for, but it feels different to me, especially the title, which I think is because this person (the inspiration of this poem) is very geomteric in behavior and attitude, whatever it means. It feels awkward but special at the same time. Overall, it's good enough to be experimental for a while.
XXXI
CUBE
I have a simple story
Of many years ago
When all was cold and dreary
And nights swung to and fro
I was at deeper thinking
When agitation came
I sensed a strong vibration
Of feelings just the same
I met this little child who
Gave me this little smile
I said a little thank you
Embraced her for a while
And then she handed something
A box of cottoned tear
I wondered what was inside
For she had so much fear
She feared of unacceptance
When friends despise and sneer
She feared of being different
When friends treat her with queer
She cried, like that of angels
When stars fell from the sky
I took her from her troubles
And softly asked her why
She told her that I met her
So many years ago
I tried to make remember
But all I could was no
And then she told me that I
Was lonely riding home
And passed by her direction
With lips of frozen stone
And then I did remember
But wondered why, oh why
She said that things can do change
But others stay to cry
And so, the simple story
Of many years ago
When I was cold and dreary
Could end like this one so