My head is weary
my thoughts are gone.
do I make a short poem
or does it need to be long

What is the point,
why is there all this thinking.
is it true that writing is easier
after I have been drinking.

The paper is too white
and the ink is too black
but once the first word is written
there is no way going back.

A beautiful forest nymph
tried to put a spell on me
her shiny eyes trying to lure
I quickly hide behind a tree

What treacherous sorcery
I have to overcome
before I turn into a toad
a spell that can't be undone

Her magic mystical powers
firing beams upon my soul
trying to blind the inner of me
and capturing me as a ghoul

I came into this world
where I couldn't see
cause the bright light of life
was blinding me

I made a choice
and had to strive
cleared lots of rubble
before I could thrive

But this was my path
that I had to go
sometimes it went fast
and other times slow

It was trouble and pain
but I have no regret
cause this was the way
how we two could met

I am stuck on Earth
but I don't want to be here.
Roots under my feet.

A book with a good plot,
is on the table in front of me.
It won't open.

If you both cannot
agree on certain issues.
That is common ground.

Money is no problem,.
we don't have it anyway.
Our life is our wealth.