As I ponder where I should begin
Propped up by whiskey, or is it gin
I considered all the words that came before.
Inspired by darkness, dreaded, foul
Stories that called forth a howl,
A scream for mercy I would oft ignore.
I delighted in the midnight things,
Of demon eyes, the sound of wings,
Of monsters that would chill you to the core.
I brazenly fulfilled the need,
Nefarious thoughts that seemed to breed
Like rabbits, seemingly with no end in store.
Celebrated, I became
The whole world knew my lauded name
No equal could be found to match my lore.
And then one night the words weren’t there
My muse had gone, I know not where
I was cast adrift, upon a barren shore.
So when the devil came a-calling
You might think my choice appalling
That I should sell my soul, become a whore.
Quoth the raven….