The poet is a writer, and thus a masochist,
An imperfect mind, moving an imperfect hand,
Demanding perfection.
The poet is a people-watcher, and thus a voyeur,
Peering unasked into the windows of minds
Which behavior leaves open.
The poet is an athelete, and thus an egotist,
Stretching without thought to health or reason,
All for recognition.
The poet is a philosopher, and thus a hypocrite,
Always writing about living
From the safety of though.
The poet is a blogger, and thus a pervert,
Always posting pictures of his soul
In various states of undress.
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