A Poet's Heart

When my time’s come I will not rest,
An angry spirit, forever quest.

Wandering the world, unseen, unfound,
Haunted echoes, a ghostly sound.

Through shadowed alleys and moonlit streets,
Seeking solace in the souls it meets.

Through desolate homes and abandoned halls,
Its presence felt, as darkness falls.

In whispered whispers, secrets unfold,
A melancholic tale, left untold.

A poet’s heart, with passion it burns,
As the world around it slowly learns.

To understand the anguish it conceals,
In words of sorrow, it always reveals.

For fame and fortune, it does not yearn,
But to touch the souls, willing to learn.

To stir emotions within every heart,
With its verses, a symphony of art.

So let it wander, restless and wild,
A haunting spirit, misunderstood and styled.

For in its absence, a void remains,
A lost opportunity, unfulfilled pains.

So if my words resonate, while I breathe,
May they carry on, even when I seethe.

For when my time comes, as it must,
My spirit will linger, in endless trust.