The Price

poetry about poets and other artists

                                                  The Price
                                                      by
                                                  Bob Hooper

Off again, my soul to feed
On lonelyness and so much need
Of Love, I do refuse.

Pain and heartache fill my soul
Happeness would make me whole
And prove the ruse.

Runnings my reply, my cry
With content my soul would die,
Creation I would lose.

So I search, refuse to find
Anyone or thing that could be mine,
Except the Muse.

Life the hell from birth to death
Start with nothing, end with breath
Gone