I have the sickness it is true,
The one all of us writers do.
It causes us to lose much sleep,
As words and rhymes we ponder deep.
Although my eyes I want to close,
And let the stress of today go,
Before too long I start to rise,
To look for words without my eyes.
For it is with my heart I see,
The words I find in front of me.
No matter what method I try,
I can not make the words subside.
And so I find before too long,
My night of sleep has simply gone.