Poets are liars. They cannot be tamed. <br />They live on borrowed dreams, and have the gift <br />Of casting out a graceful, witty line, <br />And catching your heart or mind in their snare; <br />Reeling you in, helpless, with a deft couplet. <br /> <br />Poets are liars. Never believe them. <br />Don’t even listen to them if you can help. <br />They have spells in their tongues, and fire in their eyes. <br />They will give you suns and stars wrapped in words, <br />And you will follow them, rapt like a child. <br /> <br />Poets are liars. It’s how they survive. <br />They give you their lies in exchange for your truths, <br />And fashion a life of their own from the scraps. <br />They must have an audience; without it, <br />They fade and pale, and soon cease to exist. <br /> <br />Poets are liars, even in the womb; <br />They kick at their mothers, curious, restless, <br />And dream of wonders to fill the world outside: <br />Soft, formless lies, growing with each cell, <br />Chronicled in wordless sagas nine months long. <br /> <br />Poets are liars; and of all liars, <br />They are the most dangerous. They will tell you <br />Of love that lasts forever, of lives that changed, <br />Of happy endings and greater meanings. <br />They make you wish, and hope, and dream, and feel.<br /><br />Amy Sutton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poets-are-liars/
