My Muse
My pen is my muse
but my ink is all drained.
My demons refuse
to give up what they've gained.
Every night,drugged,
I pick up my pen
each time it fell,
In haste I flip through pages ten,
thousand stories to tell.
Ink stains don't bother me,
it sets me free.
What pleasure is greater
than committing to paper?
Copyright © Aathira Venugopal | Year Posted 2017
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