A poets passion is to
Fuss must or lust for that there of.
Falsify plural denomination with a trust
in your silky eye dust.
Fame nor the same.
I'm about to explode with manner to calm
and ruffle your trust.
Let it be and leave me here.
I'm astray, away with nothing left.
Now breathe!

Ranis Thomas III

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hypothetically-speaking-2/