Quite the Poet

I have become quite the poet Wouldn't you know it I have made a bit of racket With words that spill out of my jacket Like an old sugar packet Rhyming is my thing but words I can not sing The words I do say just seem to pay If only I were so gay Rhymes forming in my head As I go off to bed Words coming faster then I can write now is my plight pen and paper in hand is almost to much to stand I'm just looking for a fan with all that I have ran