Why should a poet’s muse always be pain?
Why?
Why should a poet mourn of a lost something?
Lost love,
Death,
Infirmity,
Why is a poet always on the receiving end
Of all the pain assigned to humans
Why?
Why do poets carry burdens for far too long?
Why do poets love deeply?
Why do they give their whole soul
And hearts
To an uncaring world
Are poets blind to the life’s simple bliss
Are poets immune to good things
Why are poets concerned too much?
On lost things
Instead of what remains
When everything is gone
Why do poets always rummage
Through ruins,
Searching what’s already gone?
Why?
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