The writer’s burden is never lifted
It is only shared, perverse pleasure in pain
The crafting of voices
The setting of a scene
The details of the stage
All within the writer’s hand.

To be musewhipped is both
A curse and a blessing
Worlds are created, stories shared
Midnight oil burns, sleep sacrificed
Who says we suffer not for our arts?
To be musewhipped is painful indeed.

An artist doesn’t stop till the canvas is filled
A writer doesn’t stop till the story is told
Yet who has the harder task?
The artist has an easier burden, I say
For the writer is never satisfied
Till the voice is captured as it was meant to be.

The artist’s medium is many
The writer’s is but one
But until we master that one
No other tools may we touch