You don't mean to tear my heart to shreds but
poetry is the supporting pillar to my infrastructure,
characterising all that is me in attentive, descriptive lines.
Sometimes the sting of dissatisfaction is just too hard to bear:
Then my eyes weep tormented tears in clich├ęd emotion
and I know too well that I'm overreacting, my exhausted eyes
blushing an embarrassed scarlet, puffy and sore;
my nose sniffs out a discordant harmony, and I stifle coughs,
overcome with wretched feelings and a strange, unwanted sensitivity.