Sits alone at midnight
Under dimly lit light
Holding pen and paper to write
A half capable poet
Stares blankly ahead
With wild thoughts in her head
That might as well make her mad
A half capable poet
Meets tragedies after tragedies
Finds nothing called remedies
That brings her falling to her knees
A half capable poet
Writes words from her deepest heart
With the ink of her loneliest part
In hope for a better start
