Poets

By penning, the whirling thoughts,

A vivid solution, was what they sought,

Their emotions were portrayed, as if to betray,

Making even the saints go astray...

They wore the facade, woven of words,

To cover up themselves amidst the nerds,

They wrote of pain and suffering,

Or of a child planting a young sapling... 

They spoke of a world, with seven colours,

And the delight of freedom as a flying bird,

Might they have been scholars now,

The world would have turned upside down...

With little education but with tons of experience, 

They drowned the world into the sea of delirious,

For they were poets, whom history considered mysterious....