Poetic Torture

They grabbed me again tonight With paper and pencil in hand Being forced to sit down and write At the latest poems demand With both my hands chained in rhyme Needing desperately to break free As they slap me in and out of line Tied to this chair of poetry As the door to my mind creeps open I let out the slightest of whimpers I'm hoping against hope this ain't all she wrote And it's not the poem with the pliers and snippers I'm not sure I can write anymore But his technique always brings the poetic screams out of me He knows how to take me right to the edge But no further into insanity Of course I spill my guts under the pressure Telling them all it is that I know As they hand me the paper and pencil And once again the rhymes start to flow