F.Y.I.

A meaning less paper

With a dribble of words

Yet no one knows

I'm none the wiser

Burn the fire

Of all lost hope

Its light will reflect

For always in saphire

Help the poor

To get good marks

If no one's watchin

You'll help never more

The porverbial tree

In the empty firest

Makes no sound

So just let it be

It's a strange feeling

To lose it all

With no one left

To help with the cleaning