They say we all have muses
Creatures of creativity
Who grant upon those under their care
The vision needed for excellence

And yet the 'gods' must not have thought it good
To grant me such a creature of my own
For never has one appeared
To remove the dread of artistry

These angels of grace
Have never graced the scene
Around my table, as pen moved
Dreadfully slow accross the paper

Perhaps it's better, as I've learned
Museless isn't as useless as it appears
I'm not caught within the whims of another
Instead I am tortured by my own