Writer’s Blues

You make yourself sad to find a muse

A new excuse to grab some booze

More of a reason to give into folly

Then go and pick up little Ms. Molly

It’s within that fucked up funk you find your peace

All the voices stop whispering and you feel at ease

A temporary bliss from your thoughts

While the reality you’re trying to escape continues to rot

The next day you wake up and it happens again

A downward spiral with no visible end

A classic case of the writer’s blues

When your purpose is your passion and he was your muse









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