Are we actually the poets we think we are or are we being fed our lines through the ether from poets long gone?

Who are you

Who are you, why are you putting all those rhymes in my head?
Invading my thoughts whilst I toss and turn in my bed,
In my slumber I seek to complete a verse or a poem perhaps two,
Not allowing sleep to drift over me till my night's works is through,
At your bidding I search for a couplet that smoothly doth flow,
Wide-awake with a stanza not knowing which way to go,
Thankfully you eventually direct me to that one perfect line,
But just who are you? perhaps they are your poems and not mine?

Poetry by Albert
Read 975 times
Written on 2005-11-26 at 20:21

Tags Poetry  Reflection  Darkness 

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