An artist needs a muse
Like how the suicidals need the noose
Feelings feeding the fears
And fear feeding the tears
Round and round
Its how the carousel the goes
Never really getting anywhere
The choice is yours to get on
Like how the poet chooses his quill
But what you pour on the parchment
Can never be choreographed
Cause the heart will bleed on its own accord
So spoiler alert to the suicidal artists
Your muse will be your noose.