The voice has returned, telling me to write,to isolate myself With a hard blow my head it stricks Cannot ignore these words it gives,words a repeated flow A flow from my mind it's like springs of living waters Hand to pen and paper, just have to let it go My hand it lands and mind it winds My soul it fuals Like a mean machine I can't seem to stop It's job is complete it leaves, like the leaves of a dying tree leaves the tree It goes, were it heads I could not now Leaving me with the next fight, to brush it up to make it rhyme After a while it returns with something to write about, A new masterpiece