English is not my native language so forgive me if my poem ̶s̶u̶c̶k̶s̶ isn't very well written. It might not even be a poem at all. The riddle still counts, though:
Some people come to me all the time
If they express themselves well enough
They might get what they're looking for
I fight against experts
I should be sending them gifts
And thank-you letters
Every now and then I have some insights
Not all of them see the light
I remember having one in a leap year
It was bigger than the last of it's kind
These people believe in strange things, right?
Who are these people and what is the strange thing they believe in?
I'll always strive to be welcoming, even if you don't express yourself well. But that might not always be the case. You might have the door slammed in your face.
Who's Your Arch-Enemy?
I'm an exception.
Most of these people prefer dogs over cats.