This Poem

This poem started easy lines were flying out but, now they're rambling words from a child's mouth. Ideas now dry up I try to bring it to an end that's when poem becomes, a fiend instead of friend. Now I write and I write I don't want to but must, If this pen leaves the paper I may become dust. This poem, this poem How it is poison in my veins, Haunting my dreams and thoughts driving me insane. An addiction that won't cure thought it's killing me inside, I want more and more I've become Jekyll and Hyde. One moment i can stop then the beast appears, manifesting itself into my worst fears. This poem, this poem Oh God help me this poem, I'm sacrificing myself trying to appease the totem. But the more I write the clearer i see, What this poem really is why I write with first degree. This poem is my life why it seems over when it's hard, yet why I keep going learning when I'm scarred. This Poem, I will keep writing until my pen has dried, then my time will be for the Reaper To take me to the other side.