The Lonely Poet

Why must a poet write such things Of sorrow and despair? Does he not understand he brings The darkness with him there? He brings a hollow lonesome wind That chills us to our souls Each time he waves his mournful pen The breeze of heartache blows For he writes with pure emotion Where demons sometimes sleep He will write of his devotion He's ever reaching deep He will write of his rejection He lives with every day He knows no words of affection His mind don't work that way So write on now lonely poet And tell us of your scars Tell us of your lonely prison With heartache as your bars