Give the Chef Your Compliments

When I write about love do you think I have a heart?
If I write about pain do you think I've fallen apart?
Do you think about me or yourself first?
Do you even realize there's a creature behind these words?
Difting over the dimly lit path that is my existence 
Thoughts meander through a fog with little resistance 
I ponder these questions until it hurts
For it really isn't me that impacts you, only my works 
How far gone would I be if not for these creations
Humans offer help but rarely have the patience 
Answers to these questions are really only batter
As long as I cook my thoughts and serve them, to you I don't matter