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.