Half Full

She can't figure me, my circle has no end...

There are no angles she can't break what bends 
Cutting corners thinking she should gain an upperhand...

Legs up would be easier if she could understand 
For nothing she stood, over rails falling for any ...

Down this road are few with qualities of many 

One of a kind, here’s a chance, can she paint me a picture...

or is this too just a dream, half full, I see the pitcher.