When the shell of my being
        No longer contain my emotion,
       I write

       For the strength to drink
       The bitter potion of life,
       I write.

      As the patrons scream
      My well being to me.
     I write.

      In the quest for dreams
      As fears descend like a thick fog,
     I write

    Even when these thoughts turn to ashes
    And the poet lies frail in me,
    I write.