The Master-lyrical poem
The Master-lyrical poem
He sits over my shoulder.
Warm, damp air breathed against
the back of my neck.
He's close, too close
hovering just out of sight.
Always behind me
ready to stop me
from leaving,
from sleeping,
from getting distracted.
He binds me with invisible chains.
Straps me down to the chair
and tells me to keep working.
He's a harsh taskmaster
never satisfied with what I've done.
Certain that I can do better,
maybe I'm not trying anymore.
I'm hostage to his whims,
captured at any time,
and made to make his visions
come true.
I can refuse him nothing,
I suffer his moods gladly.
For I fear to lose him.
What would become of me
without him?