Ballad of a Brain Dead Poet

You worship her as a Goddess
Believing she can do no wrong
As you tune your sinew strung lute
To compose another ill conceived song

How many sacrifices will you make
Before you’ve had enough?
How much are you willing to lose
Before you finally call her bluff?

You write your little poems
Thriving on the pain
Wondering how I have the nerve
To suggest that you might be insane

Your tears keep your ink moist
And give your poems “integrity”
While your little acts of melodrama
Only serve to frame your stupidity

What will happen to your poems
When your eyes shed that final tear?
When your soul becomes numb to the pain
Then you will really know fear

The ink will start to dry in your pen
You’ll have nothing left to say
She’ll find another willing worshiper
While you quietly fade away.

2-5 September 1997

Based on William Shakespeare’s Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act 3, Scene 2, Lines 72-86