I Love You, I Hate You Poem by Bill Cantrell

There is a most sacred place for poets
A place after inspiration has abandoned us
At the wayside of emptiness,
We look for a return
In between the sunrise and sunset,
Love and hate goes back and forth,
Trying to break ties or stay committed
The poet falls to slumber
From the sunset to the dawn,
Another's sleep has failed
Oh how the humble feel unworthy,
In a place such as this
Entrusting our emotions to convey,
Our hearts to all onlookers,
We patiently wait,
For we have grown accustomed
To being left in the cold
Yet, it is moments as this,
That we visit the past and peer into the future
And at some point,
We become enlightened
A kindred spirit stirs our heart,
As inspiration lifts us to salvation
And so we once again walk with the living,
Until she abandons us again,
For dead