Poet's Weird Emotions

Expressive perceptions, There’ll be no objections; Under a tempest of words, If the storm moves towards. The dispassionate flowers, Dies in heavy rain showers, Except for the exquisite carnation, Inside the home foundation. In touch with vanity, In need of quantity; Conspiring with frivolity, Filled gently with inanity. The day fast fading, The lover serenading; An abundance of simple phrases, As the mistress in stasis. There’s no charm of verses, Only troubled senses; Words upset pleading, The lyrics exceeding! The poet finds intrusion, For finding solutions; In the mist of a ballad, The theme becomes invalid. The fragrant of sentences, Covered with barb-wire fences; Confusion dwell, In a secluded cell. The poet grew cold and wizen, For his poems, he went to prison!