Poet's Are Disgraceful Poem by Dylan Rivera

Words linger onto paper,
or a technologically advanced beam.
And all the while I seem to be the victim.
The fiend.
Ideas are unknown to an extent.
Almost inalienable,
they've fostered unique meanings:
Perhaps, heaven sent.
In other words,
I think poets are depressed.
In a state of despondency,
poets crave to be heard,
much more or less.
Poets have no desire to ignore
or understand their passions,
but to simply ignite their questions.
Poets come from a place of vacancy,
they're rather unpleasant.
Unfamiliar to the world,
Outcasted in a sense;
they scream for attention.
Or maybe a hand to comfort their tension.
Reassurance;
reliability.
Most of all, reason
is what drives a poet's agility.
Am i crazy?
Unafraid to ask.
Brave enough to be told.
Poets are in search of…
I am in search of...
To be quite frank,
poets are admirably disgraceful.
Thank god.