How Not To Write a Poem

I doubt myself, real bad sometimes I think - why did that happen to me How could I possibly write that nice poem? And if I did it once, how can I do it again? Because I don’t know or forgot how too With pen in hand, the magic flows again But the words come from the pen’s pointy end Not from me, I just write what I’m told messenger boy, only transcribing I take no credit except for criticizing But not for spelling mistakes, that’s Gates’ job Although he really doesn’t know The difference between to and too Hint, it doesn’t make four Whoa, the pen just ran out of words.