The Poet In A Cruel World

The Poet in a Cruel world has but two choices
One is to find words for those without voices
To share in their sufferings, as if it is his own
To cry for each life and to repeat each groan
Each cruel deed, becomes a slap in his face
Taken to heart, words scar leaving their trace
The cost he must bare, comes with a heavy toll
Each cruelty exposed, expressed from his soul
The words are not cheap, they are written in blood
The tears are not few, they mimic a flood
He expresses the pain through prose he holds dear
To comfort the victim and grant relief of their fear
Each sentence he writes, drawn straight from his veins
His humanity diminished, a hollow carcass remains
You see you can not look at evil too long
God gave us strength, but we are not that strong
The poet betrayed, to late he found out
Our capacity for hate, is limitless no doubt
Each drop of soul, now fully drained out
His words are all gone, deafened his shout
So with stunned eyes, he shutters them closed
He mutters last words, as his soul is exposed
Oh how I wish, this life weren’t so cruel
In a just world, God would not suffer the fool

The second choice also bares many tears
Because the poet gives voice to intimate fears
A world full of those with cold wooden ears
And eyes so blind, they no longer shed tears
In this wooden world, the poet must live
He carves from their wood, his life he must give
Like clock work they hand their wood in the morning
By days end he replies, with his heartfelt carved warning
The words of warning of what we could
His chiseled warnings, from their cords of wood
No matter how hard he carves and he toils
Each day they return, the wood soaked in oil
Each stick at his feet they carefully lay
With wooden ears their actions betray
Around them they pile and in cruel return
They shed not a tear for his great love and concern
After he’s spent they grab their own torch
And set aflame the wood to burn and to scorch
So this is how it always must end
The poet dies, for lack of true friends
They all watch, the flames grow higher and higher
From within he cries out, his last words from the fire
Oh how I wish, there would be no warnings to raise
In a just world, I’d be content and give God the praise

So I will end this story, unhappy but true
I just wanted you to know how I feel about you
You see it’s my love for you, I’ve been trying to show it
Had I lived in a beautiful world, I might have been a poet

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