She Writes at Night
She writes at night by candle light,
Her poetry and prose
The only time the Muses rhyme,
Or so the story goes.
Her heart inspired, filled with desire
As the words drip from her pen
The only time her troubled mind
Is sharp and clear again.
As she writes, a spark of light
Reflects the tears she’s shed
As words unspoken and songs unheard
Dance to the tunes in her head
This troubled soul continues to write
Unable to silence the voices
Till the sun comes out and the Muses stop
And she’s unable to make her own choices.
Then she’s taken away to sleep all day
In a room that’s padded and safe
Behind locked doors where few ever roam
Is where you will find this waif
For days and nights she sits in the light
Never uttering a sound
Until that night when the moon is bright
An orb, so big and round
Then once again, she writes all night
On the Muses she’ll depend
The only night her addled mind
Can think things through again
Till the sun comes up and the moon is gone
Her final words are penned
A prayer, perhaps, to save her soul
A cry for peace. . . Amen.
Copy write 2013 © miss_jkim
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