Thought what I am to do
What could I prove
But to who
Anyway I was on the move
Had to take my precious
on to my hand
had to take my pen
on to my hand
Within a flick
A stream of crazy brain waves
I gave the ideas a tick
They've made me a slave
I had to arrange up
I had to rhyme up
I had to put them a make up
They've made me a slave of poetry
I couldn't help
I made a yelp
A yelp of Utter Joy
I wrote a Poem! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like the sense of compulsion here, consistently throughout the poem.