The Poet In Me Is Dying Poem by Don Nguyen

Being watched, being caged, the poet in me is dying
Not like a corpse, he needs romantic sentimental feeling to thrive for writes
A lifetime relation as Gibran's he might not want,
Sufficiently enough just somewhere between Gibran and a monk
I need to breathe floating romantic air to live the life of romantic poet
Pure-love, sentimental 'love', with no specific person in mind,
is like the blood line in my poetic vein

Now, you have known more of me, do you still want me to be
here with you, to get frustrated, angry, or just let me be?
Don't watch over me, baby me, keep check on me
Where I have been or where I am going next.
Am I in prison or in zoo or in mental institution or school?
Should I just walk and roam around to be free again?
How many near-misses did I encounter and avoid?
Once, listening to my college professor
I went out to get myself an used BMW instead of entangling with one of my classmates
Now looking back, I am so glad the decision I had made
Otherwise, I wouldn't be here with you today
But somewhere in some mental institutions
For (some) women can be so soft and pleasant but they can drive you up the wall

Just visiting an old friend
I have one more close friend I need to pay my regard next.