The Muse Is Sick! Poem by O. C. Woods
The Muse Is Sick!
The song is sick because of my muse...
turning every thoughts upside down to heal
she casts spells no more for me to steal
and Cold November enters: undercover subterfuge
Nighty melodies to watch Cupid miss my muse
she shines blurry shrieking the perspective
preventing the pen to remain mightier to greave
and everybody just spins around my notebook out of use.
*
O.C.W
thanks to the muse...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/14/2024 5:28:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
