'' May It Fill You Up With Delight '' Poem by Bri Mar

This writing's a bit of a pain,
In fact it drives me insane,
It's really sad they've condemned me as mad,
It's back to the drawing board again.

Though I really do love composing,
Those doors I will now be closing,
Though always a friend I'm afraid it must end,
They're claiming I've been overdosing.

Whether I write novels or rhymes,
Science fiction or perhaps brutal crimes,
I get carried away, which does cause affray,
I suppose it's a sign of the times.

What I imagine I tend to forget,
Which does cause a lot of regret,
Not for me it's the publisher you see,
They claim I am in their debt.

Critics I tend to ignore,
I find them a bit of a bore,
At being rude they are really good,
Praising to them is a chore.

My readers will be really annoyed,
My work they have always enjoyed,
Now what they're saying for my blood they are baying,
My character is being destroyed.

I'm determined to put up a fight,
One last poem I'll write,
When it's put to the test it'll be one of the best,

‘' May It Fill You Up With Delight ‘'