In dyier dispair,
you can't know or care.
Once gone
won't return.
Now it's our hearts
we must re-earn.
Our love is forever lost.
To become true poets
it's our sanity it'll cost us.
Poets is a dying breed,
some so called "artists"
it's on true poets that they feed.
In the future it's only us who will carry the art onto our children and our friends. The rest will just wither away what talent they might have had.
