I may be a poet but I'm not good with words
I'm not good with words that should be spoken, or words alongside chords
I'm not good with words that are supposed to be echoed
Or words that require a brave voice

I may be a poet but I'm not good with words
I don't memorize all the words in Mr. Webster's books
Neither the classic words Mr. Shakespeare wrote
No, I am not someone who can really boast

I may be a poet but I'm not good with words
I cannot express well and have words in its proper use
I don't know how to start, I do not know the exact dose
I'm afraid they may be wrong, the words that I might choose

I may be a poet but I'm not good with words
The words and what I mean, might not get even close
The battle between my heart and mind might not even have a truce
Because I tend to have many, and contradicting views

I may be a poet who is not good with words
But I'm good at words written with a pen and a note
To know what I mean, you'll just need to put an effort
Read and digest, all I have to say is written on what we all call, a poem

Smell nothing
from scents

Taste nothing
from sweetness

Go deaf
in the silence

Go blind
in the light

Go numb
in a touch

Only sense by
your third eye

Who would usher
the ushers?

Who would protect
the protectors?

Who would support
the supporters?

Who would sing
for the singers?

Who would give
for the givers?

Who would write
for the writers?