All weary faced
I stole the grace
Of other ages
From eras passed
To youths with passions
Far surpassing
All I have ever done
I am not jealous
Just tempted to gobble them up
Absorbing all they have to offer
To create my own mist of madness
Because I am just a poet

I plagiarized their passions
But only in passing
My verses were mine
My stanzas may have been
Poorly place and pathetically timed
With those uneven lines
But I never wrote what I did not want to
I never tried to lie to any of you
Play it false or safe
I am just the poet