Melancholy Poet

Do you think poetry is a balance between creativity and torment? Do you think poetic words crush the wrath of giants? Even when my wine is sweet I always find a tequilla worm floating at the bottom In my basement of blackness is where I will draw my last breath Absence of comfort is blackening my soul Starving for what was robbed from my heart I don't want to suffer in solitude any longer My beautiful soul stained by my lonely tears Because nurture that was rightfully mine was Given away to seductive vultures My life has always been a game and I am sick of playing Now when I die in my oven you'll know why My life depleted Will you show up at my funeral?