A POET IN TRAGEDY

1) My soul bleeds poetry

My skin paints burns 

My hearts reckons longing

And my sanity sorts sonnets. 

2) You have no idea what I contemplate in the nights of despair and longings when I create, 

The most profusely poetic stanzes for my favorites  

You have no idea what I lost in the yearnings of my poetic fate,

That burnt me down and built me back, as the inconveniences that I chose to negate. 

3) I have kissed thousand sorrows and I have courtesy for all them

I made love to infinite sufferings, 

But then the human in me died 

The verses look elegantly composed on paper

But the ink of my heart looks stale

The poems look profusely penned on the desk, 

But the tolerance of my soul is grueling to schlep.