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 their technique always brings
the poetic screams out of me
They know 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
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