The Poet Poem by Rachel McKnight

The poet sings
Of dreadfull things
For that is all he knows
Of dark winter days
Of hurt and betray
For he walks alone
He trusts no one
For they haven't run
His loney trail of life
And so he writes
Of cold bleak nights
To distract him from himself
But he will find
His heart and mind
Long for something else
To fill the space
In this endless race
Of what we call life
For he never lived
If all he gived
Where his sad and lonely poems