He's a lover
Not the type of lover you may think about

He loves every museum he visited
He loves every plant he waters
He loves melody he heard
He loves every poem he read
He loves the ocean and his weaves
He smiles at trees like they were human
He fantasies every lady he saw
Not by the words
By the pen and the paper
He sits in his favourite café
Watching people come and go
He saw beautiful ladies walking by
So he holds his pen and wrote about them until the paper is full
He believes women are art
So he made from her poems and books
He lives in the library where he spends most of his time next to books
it's where he belongs
And instead of one life, he lives a thousand more, trying different masks whether it's a villain or a hero he doesn't care and at night it was his favourite time it's when he's talking to the sky he's talking to the moon and with the Stars Talking to the Moon and thinking what if the moon was a lady maybe it would understand him more
People saw him and said he must be crazy
But in my mind he was:

"The sane man living in the crazy unfair world
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