Fickle is my inspiration
Elusive is my Muse
One day trickling
The next lights a fuse
I’m out of practice
My pencils don’t have points
Not a slip of paper within reach
Of my aching joints
A frustrating feeling of
Creativity averted
Has my dander up a bit,
My brain now alerted
I know I felt it
That feeling I get
Whenever a rush of words
Is about to hit
But then it faded
Into the quiet night
And I’ll slip into sleep
Not feeling quite right
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