Dear My Creativity,

I guess this a poem

Meant to thank you

Because I would not be able to write

If it was not for you.

Yet, some nights

You allow me to sleep

But it is never peaceful when

I am dreaming vivid dreams.

A scene from a book

Just dying to be written

Or another love song about the boy

For whom I am smitten.

Sometimes I ignore you

By pushing you out of my head

Thinking I will get some rest

But I toss and turn instead.

The words are getting longer

The scene is getting clearer

The melody is getting louder

As the dawn draws nearer.

I cannot control my body

As it moves to stand

And soon I am at my desk

With a pen in my hand.

My fingers search for paper

And once they find some

I write down all the words

Until there are none.

I force myself back to bed

Vowing not to leave again

But soon you are awake

And taking over my brain.

It is crazy to see what I have written

When I rise with the sun

The words are scattered

Just like the others I have done.

I am actually surprised

At how beautifully the poem flows

Since the words came together

Just a few hours ago.

I guess it is not a bad thing

That you never let me sleep

Because I would not be the writer I am

If it were not for you, My Creativity.