Not So Amusing Muse Poem by Paul Brookes

The Muse cries she is she says 'a mad woman in the attic.'
as usual she is full of herself, the ultimate narcissist.

sometimes at night she wakes me and commands write
sleepy though I am, I do.
in the morning I read these daubs, figments and jaundice words.

'I am.' she cries again 'the mad woman in the attic.'
'no one.' she continues 'cares, lest of all you.'
'well clear off then.' I say 'if you're not happy.'
she does leaving as quickly as she came,
peace descends, but we both know she'll be back,
it is inevitable.