The Poet And The Admirer

Oh dear poet please satisfy my call
My call for you to fill my being
My hollow heart to be filled with feeling
My hollow brain to be filled with meaning
Can your art be sown deep in my soul
That I may cherish it on my own?

Passionate admirer please understand
That the power within my hands
Can only be controlled by the pain that consumes me
So that whenever I feel that it needs to leave through me
I put my pen to the paper and write as I can
But does that make me more of a man?
To subside the torture by conveying my thoughts
Does it seem too greedy to not want for naught?
Does the flow of ideas that come out of my void
Really the only thing that keeps me from falling?
Should I embrace my pain in ways undescribed?
Or continue this existence with my thoughts always drawling?

My lovely poet I never knew
That the power that I always knew
Was called upon from a painful abyss
To satisfy my ugly bliss
Please forgive my every plea
For you to come and give to me

Admirer please
It is only expected of thee
To be infatuated with my works
From which my pain spouts its words
Just always remember of this talk
In which you learned of my sulk

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