Like a trickling tap
That needs urgent attention
But it's the middle of night
Its freezing , but the sound won't go
Such is the urge to write the next poem
Fingers itch
To write the words that bewitch
Cast a spell
Give them words they can't spell
I watch mum's pride swell
You see she has been unwell
Where do the words come from
Deep inside they form
Once I get in the zone, bound
It takes a while to unbound
I dunno how long I have had it
It comes to me like a fit
All I want then, is raise my feet
Let creativity take control
Give them something to troll
I watch as their mouth foams
The hate comes in different