My muse has left me
Before my art has sold,
For something spiritual,
something more...old.
Now I can eat but can't sleep,
Expertly rant and cry more than laugh,
And I'm stuck writing bad poetry
Unable to sew and make it prose.
Paramour
No more
Nevermore
No Lenore
My muse has left me
Taking my cheap soul,
For something more real,
To him I suppose.
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