Oh simple words so poorly spoken
Withered is thy form
Leave thyself on crinkled paper
Bad poems are better never born
Break spirit not, for they who search
Thy written dream divine
Asking only to read thy worth
Without a broken rhyme
Pen not thy verse for spoiled glory
Seek not thy worth in pride
Write thy soul from tears of passion
Lamenting in thy mind
Cry softly spirit with song from, heart
Drop sails for shores unseen
Fill thy empty page with story
Take thy reader whence they dream
Oh, leave thy page unworthy poet
Leave thy pen to dry
Take with thee, thy misplaced words
Before grieved these muddled lines
Change thy way, oh broken, poet
Spare thy readers of this crime
Seek a place for silent glory
Broken poems will never shine
Make weak no heart who reads thy story
Ye pretender of foolish rhyme
Keep thy affliction to thyself
And forever lay to rest the poems thou scribed
(09/19/2015)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem