The Poet

Living in the fragment Shards keep me stagnant I’m both plaintiff and defendant Daily tried in my own lament Choices within myself I resent Down on my knees I repent No answers leave me discontent Or are angels ever sent Pulled by the devil so evident Mired in midlife not my intent My poems where I vent Giving and taking advice lent Days slowly pass and there’s no dent Lost souls are my life’s precedent Sickened by my own ailment Painted with emotions so transparent Love adds to my abandonment Pain penetrates like an insurgent There’s no way to circumvent To trust again I’m ambivalent The pleasure of pain coexistent Looked upon as an embarrassment Dreams realized are only a figment My story no one could invent These words written are blood sent Of a life forever being spent Seeking a valid endorsement Blood , sweat, and tears are a requirement For we have to be diligent So all can understand what we meant The life lived unknown as the poet…