Blame The Muse.

Blame the muse.
For what’s a writer’s use? 
Certainly, not to thrill and amuse.
But rather, to violently abuse,
Letters, words and literary tools.
Till tired, aching and confused
They refuse to move.

Blame the muse.
For what’s a writer’s use?
Certainly, not to display wit and flair,
But rather to capture and share,
His dreams, wishes and fears.
And lay these bare.
Look, a writer,
Ridicule’s willing volunteer.

So blame the muse,
Not the writer that it chose to use.
For we merely convey,
The aroma from life’s cooking pot to you.