The bleeding poet
Is whose blood
Inked her poetry.
She lived in her dreams
And died in her misery.
The moon that shines
is the little light
In her nights.
The rain disguised
Her tears.
Wind swept
Away her fears.
The waves were
Music to her ears.

The bleeding poet 
Held a pen like a knife 
To her heart.
Stabbing it with every strokes
Killing her with every word.