I’m writing this poem

at 3:12 in the morning

the wind is howling

and outside the rain is pouring

I can’t seem to sleep

side effects of being a poet

up if anyone needs me

and everyone knows it

My crush is still oblivious

my heart is still an idiot

my love is still insidious

and my brain is still too serious

I’ve made a daily writing goal

write just once a day

even if it reeks of pallor

writing slump begone I say

A poet gets no sleep

nor do they get quiet

for their mind is always screaming

deep into the dark night

They also make sketchy rhymes

just like the one above

because it is so late

and my brain is too addled with love

Good night my fellow writers

to the lovers and the fighters

to everyone who dares to dream

you’re never quite as alone as you seem

~e.a.p.