On a night such as this...
I found myself
Unable to write
As the ghosts beneath my pillow
Made too much noise.
I fed one with memory snacks,
The other I cajoled
With stories of the cruelty of men;
A third, precocious one
Told me—
I needed to change my pen,
As my writing tilted right
A sure sign of pessimism!
Initially exasperated
I soon found myself
Loving their company;
They were dead after all!
And less fearful than men
With their spears and spiked boots.
Dawn broke—
And I was able to resume writing.
I began with a couplet—
'Truth is Ugly
And Beauty is a Lie!'
As the ghosts beneath my pillow
Made too much noise.
I fed one with memory snacks,
The other I cajoled
With stories of the cruelty of men;
A third, precocious one
Told me—
I needed to change my pen,
As my writing tilted right
A sure sign of pessimism!
Initially exasperated
I soon found myself
Loving their company;
They were dead after all!
And less fearful than men
With their spears and spiked boots.
Dawn broke—
And I was able to resume writing.
I began with a couplet—
'Truth is Ugly
And Beauty is a Lie!'
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