Sorry, you're a poet - Bryony de Lat

It's no bed of roses and you know it, poet
but you were born to be one, always will
maybe a modern performer, with your mate, mic.
Or ye olde school scribe, with ink and quill.

You're not like news-hacks, who just scribble, and spew
with you everything that happens, hits home
you take it all to heart, no escape for you
it's neither rag, nor paperback, it's a life-long tome.

Everything affects you, with your caring heart
it's your best virtue, but it's also your curse
your emotions are constantly ignited, excited
and to temper and contain them, you oft' turn to verse.

You wouldn't really want to be like some people
full of themselves, with their masquerades, and poses
strutting through their own garden of life
without ever smelling the roses.

Bryony de Lat