Don't

Please don’t steal my spirit, or take my will to write.
Don’t send me spiraling and steer me from the light.
You know I cannot fight my demons way down there,
where sadness lies in wait, and I’ll no longer care.

My apathetic mind shall quickly manifest
into a shriveled thing, brought forth at pains behest.
Inspiration stifled; artistic vision blurred;
unable to recall the beauty of a word.

Without poetic thought, I’m just an empty shell;
a husk of skin and bone; no story left to tell.
Let me be creative ... if only for a while.
A sonnet! Prose or rhyme! My muse is versatile.

Let me keep my spirit, so I can write to you.
Of dappled dew {blood red}, where fields of poppies grew.