Little do word's mean

Feelings create strange deeds,
Poems that mean naught,
But paint a true thought.
Great things a mind forgets,
The deeper words a heart feels.
When reason paints not a canvas,
True does the bard sing.
Long have I made poems,
But life lay not in it.
But when a heart speaks,
Even belligerent words heed.
Little do I construct,
little do I rhyme,
This day I feel a bitpoet,
For truth I speak to thee.
No colors my words paint,
But what colors my eyes see,
Little will I regret saying,
For my heart speaks to thee.