Doomed to a Room of Gloom
by Candice Ann Moraga
My poet likes to hang out in my room
He loves to dwell in despair & gloom
I try to snuggle up against him
But I must be subject to every damn whim
Critical of his own prose & Art
For years he's found it hard to start
Finally, he starts to scribble it down
I wonder if - finally - he'll lose that frown?
Eloquent words in his beautiful mind
But can those words help us press rewind?
Back when we spoke in tones of love?
Back when we believed in heaven above?
Alas - it is more words of death & decay
Yet again - tales of despair & dismay