Poets And Poems Poem by Saint Cynosure

It seems that poets have to scream,
they have to give their words.
Its the safest way for them to dream,
otherwise it hurts.
If you could see the ink they bleed,
that flows from fingertips.
The words that live inside their hearts,
that exit out their lips.
Only whispers in a song,
until written down on paper.
Permanent when viewed with eyes,
if spoken only vapor.
The poem is the reason,
that we learn or A, B, C's.
If there were no poems,
would we really want to read?