This poem got up and wrote itself
While I was fast asleep
This poem soon enough found out
It had no need for me

Guess it felt it needed to get
A few things off its chest
Wandering around the halls of poetry
While I was snoring in my bed

This poem made its planned escape
From the clutches of my mind
With a basic need that it must feed
On the artistry of rhyme

Taking full advantage of
My unconsciousness
As I lay here dreaming
In my nightly world of bliss

Yes, this poem wrote itself
Without the benefit of me
Proving it can do a better job
When I am sound asleep