This beauty is bittersweet
For the poet is the poet without a cause
And this divorce that is the world
Does it happen to us often?
And workplace suicide
Doesn\'t help the poet any
For where is the inspiration
That keeps us going?
I can\'t help but wonder about the news of a harlot
Who sells her soul for this craft
For poets are not the cool kids in school
For we are fools
And I am always the fool again
Am I married to poetry
In spite of this divorce?
For I am left with my birthday cake
With icing and all...
Will my philosophy be the same,
Or will it die?
For I am dead in this world already.