The world to a poet

Random rhymes and tepid times,
My weird wants and witty whines.
Moral, immoral , these are just lines,
May or may not hold symbols and signs,

The path to glory,
I guess is not my story.
The glow of sacrifice,
I'm never that nice.

The hardship and strife,
May be my knife,
And that Stab to my soul,
Is what will make me whole.

The seed of wisdom,
I may not sow it,
This is just the world,
The world to a poet.