A Poet's Coal Glinting Eyes

I think I have a mild cold! Big deal~ complaining daily, a habit of the old. But I suffer from much gratitude.and if I dare write a poem about true reality, it's labeled as bad as having a strong, negative attitude? Some here, never read the Bard, not even of his              Romeo and his beloved, Juliet? Wherein, Shakespeare actually spoke of death. He did not write in iflowery platitudes! Some hide in poems, pretty, and run like deer from anything that touches the soul. Each night, their empty, soulless, eyes are black and empty as a piece of coal. Life is not a laughing carousel, on which we are      condemned to pen with smiles till Hell. A poet can write whatever, they choose, I say, and not be condemned to a positive-oriented, doomed, quilled-padded cell! Be you, always!                            5/17/2021                                ~1~