There is no love for a poet
None, not even hint
Is the constant showering
Of romantic and beautiful pieces
Not amusing to you
Is the feeling of being needed
The center piece to my inspiration
The pinnacle of my muse
Not amusing to you
There is no love for a poet
You use us like tools
Playing like the fools we are
Simply because we are more open
Wanting no longing for attention
Yet at the slightest
We bury ourselves
Deep under your flesh
Wrapping around your pinky
And hence beginning the self destruction process
There is no love for a poet
Apparently we are useless
But what would you do without us
You turn to us when you have a problem
Beg us to capture you i our poems
When all you have done
Is reject the idea of loving us
Well *******
We are poets
Real poets
We have the open hearts
And welcoming smiles
Of people who truly know
What it is like not to be loved
We are poets
And there is no love for us