Poets Like Us
No one understands us,
Why we write stanzas
Instead of notes;
Why we write verses
About love that's never been.
Only to each other
Do our secrets take shape.
To a poet's eye,
The words on a paper
Are not just words:
They're twists of emotions
And lyrics of love;
A garden of pain,
And a circle of heartbreak.
Just metaphors
And similies
Is how other people take it.
But to poets like us,
It's all we have as a
Voice.