Disgrace of a Poet

A poets disgrace,
My words fail to give a true face,
These tainted whispers reflect my emotions,
Yet they're lies filled with commotion,

Jotting down what comes to mind,
Yet there is nothing to find,
Riddles filled with despair,
Death's claw clenched in care,

Read yet you will come up short,
All the meanings retort,
Playing mind games are fun,
Especially when you are the pun

Nothing about poetry is just,
Yet we crawl on our knees with lust.