if you’re feeling down, write your heart away.
but if it’s in a generic way,
let the influences keep their words
second-hand feelings for the purpose of
touching the love-lorn or grief stricken
touches me deeply. yes, the deep touch
of hatred and scorn.
’cause you don’t write your real
to hope that others feel;
you write your false, wordsmithing a delicate hue
over the eyes of the gullible: a hue to view you.
I wish that someday you hear the poem to end poems
or feel the days, it’s people and it’s world, deep enough
to write it real, so what others feel is just that.
’cause the pretence is disheartening.