Like you I aspire to greatness
Aspire but rarely achieve
And those moments when
through the work of my pen
I do, then my muse I'll reprieve
For she stands on the edge of destruction
Accused of letting me down
and leaving me lying
all thoughtless and crying
enough tears that my muse could drown
But those flashes of rhyme inspiration
and wonderful metrical feet
that she is supplying
dry up all the crying
and look, there's my poem complete