To Write a Realization
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A stanza can not stop the hand of death
The reaper rips across the paper sheet
A stanza can not save a life with breath
To drown a person choking words they eat

A quatrain can not calm the bawls of hell
The lines will never save a wretched soul
A quatrain can not cure a cancer cell
It spreads across the ink to kill the whole

A poem can not heal an open sore
The lesion bleeds profusely through the page
A poem can not fight a viral spore
The words will fail the brawl of virus rage

Why must my words of thought be written down
They can’t perform an act to shine profound