Trying to put the words where they belong
I have been writing all so long
A Poet writes what they feel
It could be one’s reality for real
A Poet can write hours after hours
But when a Poet reads what they wrote, it doesn’t sound like the inspiration being spoke
A Poet writes more
But the mind states, there’s more to explore
The night can turn Midnight
It’s those very hours the Poet should be a sleep
But it’s the Poet’s inner emotion soul he wants to keep
Sweat pouring down with a tomorrow that has already came
What have I written?
Is it something forbidden?
I am surrounded by sentences feeling like a gate
But being a Poet, can I relate?
Shadows of me
Darkness no one can see
A Poet doesn’t need a name
It’s a write with an idea that came
Some say, a Poet is nothing more than a game
A Poet writes what’s in their head
Yet sometimes people feel misled
Only a Poet knows when they are a Poet
It’s the confidence to show it
It doesn’t matter if people don’t understand
A Poet will always be in demand
The Poet has the passcode, and it is called “Unload”.