Imprisoned Muse

What happens when life's demands stifle creativity.

My Muse was strong, in days long gone.
But as a slave to my daily grind,
I treated her as a nuisance
and imprisoned her in my soul
to starve

Though weakened, fragile and malnourished
she still has a voice that calls to me.
Crying for freedom and pledging
once her chains are gone she will free
us both.



Tina B





Originally published to Writing.com in 2012
Revised February 2015