Poet's Mind

A poet's mind
minds a lot
But his mind never minds
From outside he's stoic
Inside brews a storm
sadness is his refuge
From outside he refuse
Confuse with the fusion
Of calamity in normality
He hates it
The fact that it's rated the highest
Irates him
His eye sends mix signal to his brain
He sees beauty in deranged
He keeps quiet
In melodies of fused xain
There is pain in his words
He refrain words
Words hold world's
He understands
Even then he minds a lot
That his mind never minds
And that minds him a lot!