Inspiration

Marianela S.

Its funny how inspiration

Can suddenly attack you from behind

And turn you into a typing machine

And eventually leaves you blind

It never gives you any warning

No flashing light, or any sign

It just comes and tells you to get paper

Or else you might miss a great rhyme

At times it won’t let you sleep

At least I can’t when something that big is in my head

It just develops gradually

Until I get myself out of bed

I always have to write it down

For fear I might crush the next best seller

Instead I’ve turned into a lyricist

A rhymer, a story teller

I tell tales of my travels

From my room to the outside

I tell my feelings and hopes

About what would happen if hearts collide

I just hope someone will read

And maybe even enjoy it

It’s the only thing I really love

And am actually quite good at

So here I sit every night

Suffering from insomnia and inspiration

And every night I tell my readers

My thoughts and declarations

Through this one thing called a poem

It’s the most precious thing to me

The one place I can somehow call home

I tell my hopes I tell my fears

I tell the times I let out tears

I love every moment of it

I love to let it out

Because Inspiration is the thing that keeps me from a shout

I’d never trade it for the world

This ability I posses

To make poems that say exactly what I need them to

Whether they’re about a nightmare, or of a mess

I love my poems and I’ll never stop

And I have only inspiration to blame

It’s the one thing I can always count on

To keep me behind the line of going insane