Being a poet,
Is not something,
Something you turn off and on,
It is the melody of your heart song.

I got friends that say to me,
“I write poetry,”
But the problem is,
Their truth ain’t reality.

In trying to rhyme,
Their words all die,
**** them,
Let the real poets rage.

"I am a poet"
That is what our ego tells us
What we tell others
What others desire for self
What we desire to hear
So they tell you that you are
Quid quo pro
We stroke one another
When I die I hope "they'll" say
"A poet has left us"
But then as now
I will not know it