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The poet put his pen to paper
The blood from his anguished soul
Stained the virginal paper red
As his soul painfully expressed itself
The words lay heavy upon the page
Hot words written with vitriolic intent
Like lava flowing over the paper
Searing the eyes and souls of its readers
This poet who once long ago knew love
Now sits in tormented discontent
His heart crushed, his soul writhing
In unenvied pain and torment
There are no fond memories to ponder
No blissful days to give happy comfort
Only this destructive pain within him
Leaving salted tears filled with ashes
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