A Poet’s Qualm

A poet’s qualm is a funny thing

It’s a constant and persisting ring

A wonder of a wandering mind

That shed’s shreds of light

On poets’ lives

A poet’s qualm can be felt when read

An understanding of misunderstanding one’s own head

For often poets dream of love

But also dream of tragedy

And often poets trust themselves

But not their conscience, can’t you see?

A poet’s qualm is odd, it’s true

But a poet’s qualm is indeed their muse.