A poet never lies

Tear stained pages, crumbled papers
Lie on floors, desks, and drawers
Eraser marks, dark lead words
Flow out from our hearts core

Trash can filled with blank pages
We want our words to come out right
We fight with inner emotions
Our finish product is our delight

In journals and in notebooks
Our secrets are revealed
We confess, we proclaim
In hopes our hurt will be healed

Webster defines all our feelings
So we define the truth
On how we really feel
Our words not uncanny or uncouth

If you know a poet
And doubt the words they say
Know that a poet never lies
And believe what they portray

** I dont know what category to put this under