The Worst Of Poets

I have turned into the worst of poets....
Ink in my pages have taint my words,
I wanted beauty to trust my write,
but words just flew
...out of my sight....

The world lost dreams....
I let mine fly in hurricanes,
drifting pages in winds at night,
and that was all
...for me to write...

My eyes forgot the changing sky....
the taste of lips in passion's quest,
my hand wrote the past as dust
and golden ink
...was read as rust...

My doors were slammed from the outside....
you came along and offered love,
and as your words clinged through my ears,
I came to write them
...down as fears....

I got confused inside of death....
the life I won was waiting there,
I let it gamble and play with fate,
until I wrote
...complains too late...

I have turn into the worst of poets....
my words have lacked the simplest form,
of waking dawns and seas and songs
sinking in the inmense vast
...of a world gone wrong...