I may be strange,
In a very large range,
Though I am just lonely,
It is me only,
Who in this place,
Which is such a small space,
Who holds not a grudge,
And with a small nudge,
Will hold much love,
And yet with a shove,
I will give my heart,
Which is no work of art,
But with that fall,
Down the hall,
That is the complication,
Of another's interpretation,
Of love and life,
Which can be quite a strife,
Yet I will stay and fight,
But with little might,
I will be thrown about,
Y