Tear apart the soul till you find just what you searched for
Till the blood stains your hands and seeps unto the floor
Watch as agony takes over and the pain sets in
A poets miserable existence leaves one feeling paper thin

Heart of ice and a lips like razors
He alone and alone to be
Dont come close
Dont touch him with your warmth
Do not talk to him for he is not a he
As far from one as one can be

Gouge the eyes that see through
A metaphorical sight
They serve no purpose in reality
Physicality
Take but a drop of blood and watch as the poet washes away
His tears carry verses like a song

Tis no feeling like a poet whose lost his way
Down and out
What is he supposed to say

No words, no meaning with no solution in sight
For what if this were to be his last night?
Maybe its so that you can take everything that makes us who we are
Fault it and blame it

A bane of thy existence
In which the poet is forced to live

What is a poet to do once hes lost his voice?