I find myself trying to make a poem that will help or assist with peoples days. i write my wife poetry so she may be happy and joyful with the love i give and spent for her.but a realization came to mind the other day. my poems can\'t do anything really. they don\'t do anything worth the merit or thought. or even the structure to be written down. i don\'t know why i write and why i think the way i do. but i know no poem of mine will ever do anything. will never beanything. and will never go anwhere. because that is the way it is. i can\'t write a poem to brighten someones day, i can\'t write a poem to help some body learn.\n\n\n\nTo Write a Realization\n---\nA stanza can not stop the hand of death\nThe reaper rips across the paper sheet\nA stanza can not save a life with breath\nTo drown a person choking words they eat\n\nA quatrain can not calm the bawls of hell\nThe quatrain will not save a wretched soul\nA quatrain can not cure a cancer cell\nIt spreads across the ink to kill the whole\n\nA poem can not heal an open sore\nThe lesion bleeds profusely through the page\nA poem can not fight a viral spore\nThe words will fail the brawl of virus rage\n\nWhy must my words of thought be written down\nThey can\'t perform an act to shine profound poem, poetry, sonnet