Image for the poem My Muse

My Muse

Youíre the dripping ink from my pen
Youíre all the ripped up journal pages
Ones that I treasure, the ones Iíve trashed
Here to soothe me when the spark enrages
Youíre the words that roll off my tongue
The mixed up lines and words in my head
Youíre the light to this unending darkness
The true awakening to the untapped dead
When the paper gets too soaked, and
The inked words are all bleeding together
I reach out to grasp the strings of my muse
And finally my hands clutch the invisible tether
Days that drag on, and not a word I write
As I shrink into an abyss of mixed emotions
I search and bloody scream til I find the light
And already ashamed for causing a commotion
I rip another page out, dip the pen in the ink
The words spill out, I just needed a little help
As I slip deep into the sea, the lines of poetry
I should ground myself, before I drown myself
So where is my ink? Where are my pages?
What am I doing here, why canít I save me?
I donít know how this is done, but this I know
For I am just a constituent of our own solidarity
Written by LivDiane
Author's Note
Donít know what Iíd do without a certain someone always inspiring me to write.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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