Grief of the Bard

After the end of all the loudest times A poet breathed in yet another breath Finally prepared to present his rhymes About love and hate, even life and death Prepared to give stories with falls and climbs To tell the tale of Mark, Calvin, and Seth Many more indeed was planned to be told Every story worth more indeed than gold He went out giving stories from his lips He told and put people in raptured spell His normal words seemed to do tricks and flips He gave stories from his deep inner well He proclaimed heroics and he bowed dips He did that until his endless joy fell His great morale and hope not even spared For behold not even one person cared He begged and begged to those listeners dull Each of those precious tales he tried to give He tried, tried, to make those people’s lives full They may have survived but refused to live So the bard was forced to not save their souls Each soul silent as under sedative So, sorry to leave the hopeless, he left Left unable to share those works so deft