The Poem - A Soliloquy

You may call me a poem
Not for my Author I'm
A betrayal to the language.
But Him I blame for what I'm!

Compiled to deliver a message
Yet never a chance to serve.
Words I carry is so simple
But the meaning obscure!

Never I know the reason,
Never I asked Him why!
The reason for my existence,
The message bestowed upon me.

Not for His lady or a friend,
Scribbled me with none in mind!
With shame I stood While
Praised and proud He be.

Burn me now Oh I beg!
Let it be my martyrdom!
I plea for end not in fag
But in respect for a true poem!