Poet's Note: The following is inspired by prompt #7 on Chloe Rose Violet's list of October writing prompts, which can be found below.
Demons escaped through my pen
Set forth from the recesses of my mind
As my hand scrawled across the page
Attempting to fulfill a deal long due
My soul enslaved to the craft
In exchange for freedom through the word
My Crossroad Blues, the hell hounds on my heels
One masterpiece away from completion
My pen hot, my spirits singing
The death knoll now ringing
As the final line fell from my ink
It was almost time, he was almost there
Come to collect his pound of flesh
But to my horrified eyes, what did I find?
Another crappy poem
About the Creator
Stephanie Hoogstad
With a BA in English and MSc in Creative Writing, writing is my life. I have edited and ghost written for years with some published stories and poems of my own.
Learn more about me: thewritersscrapbin.com
Support my writing: Patreon
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.