Symptomatic

I have grown accustomed to

Hand cramps,

Blurred vision

And lack of sleep.

Name a writer

Who has never

Dealt with those

And I will bow at your feet.

These are the symptoms

Of being me.

The odd sense of detachment,

The ink-stained hands,

The pen constantly close-by.

If I’ll forever

Be this way

Then I will be

Okay.