My Muse is hiding from me;
her absence  a sight to see.
The Anger has forced her away.
She fumes with nothing to say
in the dark hallways of my mind.
The Anger has forced me to find
the center of the once calm passion
that had allowed me to fashion
the words, gifts, My Muse once gave;
I know I am truly her slave.
Has she gone forever?
Were my bonds to her so easy to sever?
And what now can I do
to refresh, recreate, renew
the solace I took in her arms:
Her words, Her whispers, Her charms(?)
With the Anger how am I to be free
and return my Muse to me?
Has she forsaken
the words she has taken
when the anger chased her to silence
and left me choking in my violence…
…and Will she come back with a vengeance
like a period at the very end of a sentence.