Inspiration swayed,
Then swerved,
To a forgotten and unoticed corner of the room,
Quietly resting in a dusty and darkened shadow,
Brooding woefully,
Turning in on itself,
It waited,
Hunched and starving,
Ready to pounce,
At the first thing that moved,
Tearing at the flesh of ideas,
Ripping apart the drawn conclusions,
Sinking its teeth deep within the illusions,
Holding tightly,
Until the last breath was drawn,
And then moving,
Moving on