Fruit of a Naive Vision

She was an odd little girl,

Charismatic and quirky,

With a head, maybe

Not quite on straight.

With oversized glasses,

And an even bigger heart,

Who cared about others

Far more than she ought.

Her lifelong goal,

So hopelessly blind,

Was to fix the world

One smile at a time.

But years and years

Flew by before she saw

That her efforts

Made next to no difference at all.

And even though she knows

That her words may reach no one

She still sits at her computer

And writes this poem.