Sad Is His Lot, Who Has Not Been a Poet
To the twist of themes exploring art's beauty so plain
Is the precious jewel that unlock the hearts' blissful ears
That listen up to the least of muse well explained
Kicking raw the mood of handling pens passionately like spears
But he who hasn't been a poet is ever lost
To the precious flow of great quill painted so raw
It shall be an aegis aesthetic appeal been too glossed
In exquisite inks that wink lovely discourse of emotional war
Its influence would have been enough a good morning song
Born a bright mantra to journey with the whole day
And an elegant lullaby to toast him to sleep long
It's so painful it gets his heart heavy to weigh
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