All we "writers" "poets"
Walk with a limp
Have a thorn in our side
We're a collective gimp
And in our words, hide
Yet, bare all
Our souls, hearts, scars
Our memories, call
Observationists, we are
Feeling too much,
Feeding on ours, and others, scars
We, are watchers of, life
The good, the bad,
love and strife
We watch the happy, The sad,
All heaven and hell, knows
We're all "mad"
And it shows
Is this bad?
No
It's what we are
We all walk with a limp