• The poet writes some more.
    His life tatter-tore.
    Into a promise swore.
    To his insanity it will lore.

    Soon to be a born
    Break some promises sworn.
    Was kicked out and thrown.
    No solace from his core.

    Walking down the road
    Bored, alone he told
    Give this man a ride
    No one at his side.

    The poet writes some more.
    Eternally poor.
    Into a sacred lost door.
    Into a forbidden store.

    He ask the man at the desk.
    " Do you have some burlesque? "
    The man laughed at him.
    Feeling down and sinned.

    Wanting to laugh some more.
    He wrote and wrote, adore.
    The poet wandered and ignored.
    Into paper passage galore.

    He read all the news
    Finding out his lose.
    Through the idiotic views.
    Thrown the paper away he decided to refuse.

    The poet writes some more.
    Can no longer living anymore.
    Into a room he went before
    He began to explore.

    There's a killer on the floor
    Coming from the shore.
    Seemed to be a whore.
    Sighing, the poet was so bored.

    Climbing up the room.
    Through the windows to the moon.
    Jumping off so soon.
    The poet lost his tune.

    He life suddenly end.
    His work was burned before a send.
    A man the world depends
    An only grip to lend.