Trixie ignores my refusal to write

I won’t write, I tell my muse. I refuse. She laughs at my won'ts, my cant's and my do’s. Most know Trixie; she brazenly dictates to me. She is puling my strings, never letting me be. I’m serious, I say. She laughs at my plight. She forces me to stay awake most of the night. Magnificent poems climb into my head. Trixie will tell me when I can go to bed.