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.