I’m a poet, I am supposedly,
Able to fix things, with words.

I’m expected to create illusions,
find ways to make happy endings.

The vocabulary’s all there, at my
Disposal, it’s just a jigsaw puzzle.

It’s what I do, it’s my profession,
Get rid of the gloom, make smiles.

But does anyone ever consider that
Crucial pieces go missing, hinges!