The poet who died by his poem
The poet who died by his poem2 mins 192 2 mins 192
Sad, a tale bearer sat
Humming a sad tune
Tell me what this song is about
In return a sad tale is told
A tale of the poet who died by his poem.
A fine man he was,
He saw the beauty in everything,
even the darkest art
A humble man he was, for none was so pure as his poetry was.
He wrote such fine poems that none could contend with.
god of poets he was called
His pen and paper were his joy
None could bring him joy than his bleeding pen.
His poem were the joy of others.
A new life his words brought to man
Hope, it gave to me
Pride gradually be soughted this poet, the once humble poet became the worst of things.
Warning his poem gave him, but in his pride he harkened not
Failed to listen, in his own pride he fell.
Sentenced by his own poem
Then came upon him a horrible fate, that no soul prays to bear
His life hanging on a thread,
not silver but a dark one
Alas, he was slowly slipping away from this world hence, to his last wish a poem to write was it
Perhaps his poem could bring him out of the dark.
But ill his thoughts were that thus last of his poems he wrote,
"Swallowed in my own pains, the darkness hovers around, Alas I am consumed by it till death
No more no more".
So long it was still it remains embedded in my heart to tell young poet to work not his uncurt path
A warning I say.
His poem became his folly and those words became his last..