my muse won’t play fair

more about my wretched muse

My muse infects my work and play
So I’m never fully there
And in idle times abandons me
To the clutches of despair

The shards and bits of beauty I find
Are shown to be the play of light
Enticing me to closer inspection
My muse conjuncts the imperfections

My muse is a foul interjection


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