Boy

His hair arrayed in a muddy brown mess,
With all of the elegance and finesse,
Of a homeless man in a burlap dress. 
 
His meticulous life well unkempt,
With a crooked smile of contempt,
Of which I never would've dreamt. 
 
His voice laced with earnest delight,
With cheerful tone that gives a fright,
Of which I'd run from, I just might. 
 

 

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