With the pen, we linger. Our heart, we pored out. Our feelings, the clearer. Finding words; when we are, it's like a bout.
Very spiritual, ask the real ones. Pain-free, when it's coming easily. Pain-ful, the writer's block forms. Sigh! Finding motivation for our gree.
Blissful, it's our hope. Unsubdued, a talent that brets. In a globe full of glope. We've found our own trait.
Having fun with intelligence, we often let out. Ideas, muchly underrated. Flashed stuffs, the world's missing out. Desole poets, I know I've understated.