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Description
The Poet'

there sits the poet with his book and his pen
he picks at his converse while he strums his heart strings
he bleeds himself dry through his words and his ink
laying himself out on pages; everything he is
he hides from the world that he thinks can't see him
he yearns to be part of it; but he just can't fit in
it shines and glitters in front of his eyes
so close he could taste it; but it all smells of lies
on the inside of this outsider; is half darkness; half blinding light
he borders on all and nothing at all. contradiction is his rite
completely simple but the most complex of complex
just another silly poet who's dying to confess