I Have No Choice
I'm tired,
and I need to get some sleep.
But I'll spend most of my night,
in a self-imposed fight.
Trying hard not to write
about how I, right now,
must write.
I'm caught in a bloodless battle
where no one gets killed.
But in this altercation
only ink will be spilled.
No chaos or carnage,
or even subterfuge.
I’m just facing a reality
knowing I'll always lose.
I'm a victim of inspiration
a slave to my passion,
and seduced by an epiphany.
I have no choice
but to pull out my pen,
and lord help me,
let the writing begin.
You see I feel a desperate urge,
a great need to write!
And I, like a junkie looking
for a two-day fix.
Must write and right now!
Each word pounding on the paper
like an intervention.
I need more of the soothing sensation
of a pen in my hand.
Because writing this piece,
was never my plan.
Oh God help me,
I'm a Poet.
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