The muse died
I put a stake through her heart
Put her in the ground

She will no longer
**** away my sleep
Trade my time for trinkets of rhyme

I left her
In an unmarked grave
So soon to be forgotten

She will no longer
Rise at first moon
To haunt my memories

Like a simple twist of fate
She looked astonished
The first blow upon the stake

I dust off my hands
And lay my shovel down
I'm going home

I will lay down
And go back to sleep
all within my ease

But before I do
I'll throw another poem
Upon the towering stack