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The Master-lyrical poem

Updated on January 12, 2012

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?


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