The Poet

A poem from a heart,
as she said.
The heart of a lonely poet;
Away from dreams,
away from the things
that were her,
to make it on her own.
Still some days just go by.
But some are not so good;
clock keeps running,
changes no time
as every hour seems to be the same.
Every hour indicates utter loneliness!
She takes the paper, the pen
scribbles down everything that's felt;
she writes a poem
from the scream of her heart,
she writes a poem-
beautiful and sweet!
Good lord,
why does she write it at all?