Let me tell you true, that I am no poet. It is my pretense, my passion and angst, these frustrations that pain and draw rhythm from life. Your ear has no ear, and yet no choice. I will poet, you will listen. This is how it is and will be, 'til the emptied heart can gather in again, life and love and joy, for no poet existing in me can capture this, me, none in me, no.