Poetry

She Speaks (#859)

Why does my muse have that pregnant glow?
Oh, shit that means writing will flow!
I can feel her in my very blood,
Oh, shit here comes the flood!
At times like those, I hold on tight,
I’ve learned it’s best not to fight,
What will come will come,
That’s a common rule of thumb,
My muse seems to always get her way,
Hell, for that matter she always gets her say,
Who’s the puppeteer and who’s the fool?
She’s the mistress, and I’m her tool.

Any Thoughts?

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