When a poet get\'s their heart broken,
They don\'t get drunk or go smoke some grass,
Their verve and their vision\'s awoken,
While they await painful memories to pass;
Poet\'s will learn a great lesson,
Their pains will still really be felt,
So be careful that you\'re not messing,
With a poet, to who pain\'s just been dealt.
Poet\'s pour out their hearts then on paper,
Dip their pen in their wounds and then write,
With their thought\'s in their mind\'s they will labour,
Often burning their candles all night.
Poet\'s nurture their wound\'s almost gaily,
In their scars they will always feel pain,
But, they will write down their thought process daily,
Hurting themselves in the process again.
So take care that you\'re not the buffer,
When a poet\'s heart\'s broken.... just pass,
Because you\'ll be the one that\'ll suffer,
From a poet that\'s just got the arse !