woe to the happy poet
for soon
he shall find his well of inspiration dry
because one can write about
sunshine smiles and blue butterflies
for only so long

let us cheer then
for the lonely
for the heartbroken
for the misunderstood

they fester in unrequited love:
they love the world
but the world does not love them back
and they spend the rest of their days
grieving about it
in the prettiest words