This Poem
This poem started easy
lines were flying out
but, now they're rambling
words from a child's mouth.
Ideas now dry up
I try to bring it to an end
that's when poem becomes,
a fiend instead of friend.
Now I write and I write
I don't want to but must,
If this pen leaves the paper
I may become dust.
This poem, this poem
How it is poison in my veins,
Haunting my dreams and thoughts
driving me insane.
An addiction that won't cure
thought it's killing me inside,
I want more and more
I've become Jekyll and Hyde.
One moment i can stop
then the beast appears,
manifesting itself
into my worst fears.
This poem, this poem
Oh God help me this poem,
I'm sacrificing myself
trying to appease the totem.
But the more I write
the clearer i see,
What this poem really is
why I write with first degree.
This poem is my life
why it seems over when it's hard,
yet why I keep going
learning when I'm scarred.
This Poem, I will keep writing
until my pen has dried,
then my time will be for the Reaper
To take me to the other side.
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