It forces itself
Out of me, onto the page
Consuming my every waking thought
Hijacking my emotions
And setting my world aflame

It drives me to write it
To the point of all abandon
And when it is finished
It prances off like a careless lover
Leaving me in the bed sheets
Used and unsatisfied

There is a hole in me where the story once was
And though I try to fill it
I crave another;
The world feels dim without my constant companion
My unwritten tale

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