The voice has returned, telling me to write,to isolate myself
With a hard blow my head it stricks
Cannot ignore these words it gives,words a repeated flow
A flow from my mind it's like springs of living waters
Hand to pen and paper, just have to let it go
My hand it lands and mind it winds
My soul it fuals
Like a mean machine I can't seem to stop
It's job is complete it leaves, like the leaves of a dying tree leaves the tree
It goes, were it heads I could not now
Leaving me with the next fight, to brush it up to make it rhyme
After a while it returns with something to write about,
A new masterpiece
#Where my poems come from
