I sit alone with Poe in hand
Dreaming of a distant land
Where merry hearts may make me mad
Unable to share in tidings glad
For my heart is a fool's resource
Blundering ahead without remorse
Unable to blink or alter course
Drawn forward by an insidious force
Some call it love and fate
And in these tones I've learned to hate
My own emotions adhere like a pox
By my own mind I'm incessantly mocked
She will never be and you never were
No matter how powerful emotions stir
Your music falls short
Your form too bleak
Her heart reports
When another man speaks
In time you'll be silenced
So flee far away
And forever regret
Every moment of each day
Her voice strikes your ears
Her form, piercing heart
What you long for, dear fool
You will never be a part
You'll forever be apart
And your heart from the start
In its dying form of art
Romanticists are fools
Adorned with fewer jewels
At least the jester, for his while
Can summon up a smile
The romantic and his pen
Will bleed again and again
****** paper with their prose
As their inner angst grows
And their soul, yes it knows
All the walls and the "no's"
Never to be free
Never will she be
Never will she see
Never is for me
Yet I am many things marvelous
A shining, beautiful treasure
My task ahead is arduous
But I'm a renaissance man of measure
For your pleasure
A dancing fool
Who is almost not good enough
Or barred by premonition's view
Though a diamond in the rough
I just know
I must go
Perhaps to show
To deal the blow
That breaks us mortal men
To repeat this pattern
Again and Again
And Again
And
Again