The Rhythm And Flow Takes A Dark Toll. Poem by nyc boy

The rhythm and flow takes a dark toll.
For the dance in my head never stops and plays dead.
It’s 3am, with bags in my eyes; the fever still spies, a troll
that cant stop writing.

As didactic I know, the rhythm & flow makes another creation,
forcing my wake, to pen a mistake, to follow the inspiration,
that is slowly dying.

Losing ones mind doesn’t take much time, as the good ones may think.
A bullet to the head is quicker instead, but alas...with a nod and a wink
This poem is ending.