The Struggling Poet
I am a poet,
futile it may seem
in the realm
I'm in
My word lost
its essence
against
the filtered ears
of the crowd,
It's subtle
as the mellow
gust of wind,
My words are frail,
for it can't pierce
the thickness
of your soul's wall
Wall thickened
by convention
your allowing,
But here i am,
striving to write
the song
I'll be singing,
hoping to find in writing
what's my true meaning,
Though my song
is not sung
and its worth
is unseen
I'll continue
to write
till breath to me
will part
Hoping someday
that my words
will crush
the walls of your soul
burn the lace
of your limit
to free at last
your unsettled spirit!
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